Read Ebook: The Alchemist's Secret by Williams Isabel Cecilia

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Ebook has 418 lines and 37441 words, and 9 pages

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Antiquity of the red race. An antediluvian people. Vestiges of an ancient civilization in America. Records of Egypt. Manuscripts of Solon, the great Greek legislator. Origin of the aborigines of the western hemisphere. Founders of an empire. The tradition preserved by the Egyptians. Early navigation of the Atlantic Ocean. Isolation of the people of the western continent. The Northmen. Iceland found. Greenland explored. Saga of Eric the Red. Voyage of Bjarni, Herjulf's son. Explorations of Leif, the son of Eric the Red. Tradition concerning Thorfinn Karlsefne. Discovery of Vinland. Its geographical situation. The stone tower at Newport. Dighton rock. Voyages of the Welsh adventurer Madoc. Discoveries of the Zeni brothers. Story of a Frisland fisherman. Estotiland. Drogio 1-50

Arrival of three strangely clad travellers in Venice. Their surprising disclosures. The book of Marco Polo. Marvellous wealth of Cathay. Gold-covered palaces. Magnificent cities. Extensive traffic. The empire of the Grand Khan. The travels of Sir John Mandeville. Commerce of Europe restricted. Use of the mariner's compass. An age of superstition. Points of the compass-card. Geographical enthusiasm of Prince Henry of Portugal. Explorations along the coast of Africa. The astrolabe made useful to navigators. The Cape of Good Hope reached 51-69

Christopher Columbus's conception of finding a short and direct way to India. His reasonable conclusions. Statements of ancient geographers. The known parts of the world. Circumference of the earth. Inferences respecting pieces of wood and dead bodies cast upon the islands lying off the west coast of Africa. Island of the Seven Cities. Letter of Paolo Toscanelli. Distance to Cathay. Columbus's overtures to the king of Portugal. Bartolom? Columbus visits England. Christopher Columbus seeks aid in Spain. The opinion of the learned men respecting his project. The friendly offices of Friar Juan Perez. Luis de Sant?ngel's proposals to Queen Isabella. Columbus commissioned to undertake a voyage to Cathay 70-93

The object of Columbus's voyage. His journal. His intention to make a map of the lands of the ocean. The vessels of the fleet. They sail from the port of Palos. The fears of the sailors. Variations of the needle. The Sea of Sargasso. Incidents of the voyage. Discovery of land. Island of San Salvador. Columbus's description of the people and the islands. He believes that he had reached the continent of Asia, and that he was near the dominions of the Grand Khan of Cathay. He sends embassadors to the sovereign of the Orient. His letter to Rafael Sanchez. The high latitude to which he sailed. A fort erected at La Navidad, on the island of Espa?ola. The profits of the voyage. Columbus sets sail for Spain. Anchors in the Tagus. Visits the king of Portugal. Returns to Spain. Enthusiasm of the people. His reception at Barcelona 94-144

England sends ships to search for a navigable way to the Indies. The first voyage of Giovanni Caboto. Pasqualigo's account of it. Discovery of the territory of the Grand Khan. The flag of England and that of St. Mark planted on the coast of the new country. Prima Tierra Vista. The island of St. John. Caboto's second voyage. The dispatches of Pedro de Ayala to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain. The voyages of Sebastiano Caboto. His explorations along the coast of Labrador. La Tierra de los Bacallaos. Sebastiano Caboto's maps and manuscripts 186-204

The Portuguese reach the Indies. Land of the Holy Cross discovered by Pedro Alvarez Cabral. Gaspar Cortereal's voyages. Letter of Pietro Pasqualigo. Terra Verde. Amerigo Vespucci's third and fourth voyages along the east coast of South America. Johann Ruysch's map. Martin Waldseem?ller's suggestion. The name of America. A fountain of vivific water. Juan Ponce de Leon explores the coast of Florida. Vasco Nu?ez de Balboa beholds the Pacific Ocean. The coast of Yucatan explored by Francisco Hernando de Cordoba. The discoveries of Juan de Grijalva. The country of New Spain. The expedition of Hernando Cortes. The magnificent presents sent him by Montezuma. The populated provinces of Mexico. Great cities. Large temples. Decorated idols. Cortes enters the city of Mexico. Its palaces, markets, and arsenals. The horrible sacrifices of the Mexicans. The siege of the city 205-274

The discoveries of Alonso Alvarez de Pineda. The project of Francisco de Garay. An unfortunate undertaking. The discovery of the Mississippi River. The jurisdictions of Juan Ponce de Leon and Francisco de Garay. Another exploration of a part of the coast of North America. Chicora. Duharhe. Tall people. Habits of the natives. Tierra de Ayllon. The voyage of Fernam de Magalhaens. Discovery of the Strait of the Eleven Thousand Virlazy. He guessed that was the trouble, he was growing lazy in his old age. Well, he would do this for Sallie; it would be one more little sacrifice added to the many which he and Martha had offered for their wandering child, that God might keep guard over her wherever she might be. Yes, he would do it for Sallie's sake and to please Martha. From Heaven she was watching him and would know that to please her and for the sake of their child he was going to brave the storm once more and carry a little Christmas happiness to those poor children over in the hollow. The walk over and back again would not hurt him; he was growing old and lazy, that was all.

But first he must light the lamp. Dear, dear, he was growing forgetful as well as lazy. He had nearly forgotten to light Sallie's lamp. What would Martha say to that? Every night as soon as dusk had fallen, Martha had insisted upon placing a lamp in the window of what had once been Sallie's room. If the child came back unexpectedly, she would see the light shining from her window and know they were waiting and watching for her. The room itself was as she had left it years ago, her clothes still hanging in the closet, her slippers laid ready for the tired feet to slip into them, the fire on the hearth all prepared against the day of her home-coming, and by night the lamp in the window shining a welcome that could be seen afar down the road that led from the village. He must light Sallie's lamp, then off once more into the storm and darkness to carry a bit of Christmas cheer to the little home in the hollow.

Nearly an hour later, a thoroughly worn-out but very happy old man sat by the stove in the farmhouse kitchen. He was too tired even to light his pipe; he simply sat there and tried to rest. It had been a hard fight against the storm, but how pleased those poor little children were! Well, he had done it for Sallie, just one more little sacrifice for Sallie who was somewhere out there in the cold, weary world, far from the home of her childhood, far from the ones who loved her best.

Sallie gone? Sallie far away in the storm and darkness? Why no, of course not. Sallie was only a little child sleeping quietly in her own little room. See, the door was ajar and a ray of light from the lamp in Sallie's room was streaming across the kitchen floor. He must go in and extinguish the light before it awakened the sleeping child. Why had Martha left the lamp burning? Surely she must know it would disturb the child. Well, as soon as he was rested he would go and put it out.

How tired, how tired he did feel! He'd worked pretty hard to-day, and the sun had been hot, so hot. Well, never mind, the hay was all cut now, a few more days like this and his barn would be filled with the finest hay in the country. A few more years like this one and he would be the richest farmer hereabouts. For himself, he did not care, and Martha had simple tastes like his own. But there was Sallie. She was only a wee tot now but she would be a woman some day. They must give Sallie all the advantages they had missed; they must lay by money against the time when Sallie would be a grown up woman and want things like other girls of her age.

What ailed him, anyway, that a day's work in the hay field should make him feel like this, so tired, so very tired?

He felt a little better now; he would rest a few moments more, then be off home to supper and to Martha and Sallie. But who was that calling to him? Why, Martha, to be sure, standing there by the five-barred gate. She had come to meet him with their baby in her arms. That was strange; it was not Sallie, it was their first-born, the boy with his mother's eyes who had blessed their home for only a few short months and then been laid to rest in the churchyard on the hill. The other little tots were with her, three of them, clinging closely to her skirts. They were all smiling and holding out their hands to him in invitation. But Sallie, where was Sallie? Once more Martha called his name. At the sound of her voice all the wonder, all the worriment, fled from Tony's heart.

"Coming, Mother, coming," he called happily, and the smile upon Martha's face was reflected on his own.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear; the storm had passed in the night. Something else had passed, too--the soul of an aged farmer. It was not until the next day they found him, still sitting in the lounging chair by the stove in which only a small heap of charred ashes remained. They looked upon that serenely smiling face, then from one to another, and sadly shook their heads. One of their number stepped forward and with trembling fingers placed in the stiff, cold hand of old Tony, the letter for which he had watched through long and weary years, the letter that had come too late.

Too late? Nay, not so. Those standing by could not see, as Tony saw, the woman who lay dying in the great hospital down in the city. They could not see, as Tony saw, the last rites of the Church administered, the Sisters of Charity bending near praying, praying for that soul about to depart upon its last long journey. They could not hear, as Tony heard, the pale lips speaking their final words:

"You wrote the letter, Sister?"

"I wrote the letter, dear. It must have reached them by now."

"You told them I was dying? You asked them to forgive?"

"I told them all and I'm sure they have forgiven already."

"Dear father and mother! God bless them both! God have mercy upon me!"

They could not know, but Tony knew. Perhaps that explained the smile on Tony's face, the smile they could not comprehend.

THE TRAMP.

"A pretty tough looking character, that! But I suppose you see a great many just such specimens in this quaint little town of yours."

Father Antony's back was turned to the speaker and for several moments he remained standing at the top of the veranda steps, following with his eyes the slouching figure that had just passed through the gate and was tramping slowly along the county road. Then, with a sigh he returned to his seat and, running his fingers through his hair, remarked half absently:

"I merely remarked," returned the younger priest, smiling, "that you must see a great many of these nomadic individuals in this quaint little town of yours. I have been here but a week and that is the sixth villainous looking rascal who has presented himself and demanded something to eat."

"Yes, a large number of tramps pass through here in the course of a year, for we are on the direct road between the two largest cities of the State. Many of them are, as you say, villainous looking, but I do not think they are half as bad as they look. In fact, in some cases, I have found them to be pretty good fellows once you had passed the rough exterior and reached the real man underneath."

"You must have had some very interesting experiences with these tramps of yours; have you not, Father?" asked the younger man curiously. "I wish you would tell me some of them."

Father Anthony shifted his chair so as to command a better view of the road. He watched in meditative silence until the tramp had become a mere blot upon the whiteness of the dusty road and had finally disappeared over the brow of a distant hill. Then he spoke in tones of reminiscence:

"It was on just such a May evening as this, clear and beautiful only much cooler, that I sat in this very chair and watched the road as I am doing now. But on that evening I watched anxiously, divided between hopes and fears, for the figure that was so long in coming; I was watching for Jim, the tramp. Jim had promised faithfully, but with some men promises are made only to be broken. I began to fear that Jim was one of these. Still I prayed fervently and continued to hope, though the twilight deepened and brought no sign of my vagrant.

"My meeting with Jim had come about in this way. For some time I had been playing a game of hide and seek with a certain backsliding member of my congregation. The hiding was all on his side, the seeking on mine. Try as I would I could not seem to obtain an interview with him. He was never at home when I called; so I decided that my only chance of coming to close quarters with the enemy was to surprise him at his work. That afternoon I had gone to the quarries and found my man superintending the gang in charge of the stone-crusher. He certainly was surprised and not very pleased to see me, and all I could obtain from him after more than an hour of argument and pleading was a promise that 'he would think about it.' The 'it' referred to the making of his Easter duty, the time for which had nearly expired. Bitterly disappointed, and with a feeling of utter defeat, I was turning away when my steps were arrested by a not unpleasant voice:

"'Why don't you try your hand on me, Father? I'm a black enough sheep to keep you busy for a few moments anyway.'

"I wheeled around and found myself confronted by a short, thick-set man of most unattractive appearance, a man whom you would scarce choose as a companion along a lonely road at night. At a glance I sized up my new acquaintance: a typical tramp who had taken a job at stoking the engine to vary the monotony of the road. He was no professional 'hobo,' but belonged to that class who take to tramping from necessity rather than from choice--a too great love for the bottle being the necessity. They find an odd job here and there, hold it until pay day, squander the month's earnings in the nearest saloon, then on again in search of a job somewhere else.

"I am well acquainted with these men, but there was something about the rough looking specimen before me, a certain something in his manner, in his speech, in the twinkle of his eyes, which set him apart from the rest of his class. A grizzled beard of iron grey concealed the lower half of his face, and the right temple and cheek were disfigured by a scar which gave the countenance a decidedly sinister appearance. In spite of that I felt that the man before me had at one time been accustomed to a very different life from the one he was leading now.

"'Why don't you try your hand on me, Father?' he repeated, and the smile accompanying the words made the ugly face almost pleasing.

"There was not time for a lengthy conversation, the engine requiring constant attention, but the tramp volunteered the information that he answered to the name of Jim, and promised to report at the rectory in the evening and give me a chance to try my hand on him.

"In the evening, then, I sat and waited, half fearing that he had changed his mind and would not come. But just as the first pale stars began to twinkle in the sky Jim pushed open the gate and I went to meet him with both hands extended in warmest welcome. He gave me his left hand, and for the first time I noticed that the right was gone--amputated at the wrist. Jim saw my glance of shocked pity and smiled as he said calmly:

"'It was the drink did it, Father--the hand and this scar on my face. I'd been hitting it up pretty lively and didn't realize where I was walking. The track wasn't wide enough for me and the train. One of us had to get off, and as the engine was the stronger of the two--well, you see the result before you.'

"'How long have you been tramping, Jim?' I asked.

"'More years than I care to think of now, Father. The drink again. In fact, it's been the drink at every turn; it's ruined my life, made a complete fool of me. But let's get down to business; only, you'll have to help me out, it's so long since I went to confession I've almost forgotten how.'

"'Come into the house or the confessional in the church,' I suggested.

"'The house or the confessional in the church? No, thank you, Father. My little friends up yonder, those pretty, sparkling stars, my only companions on many a lonely night, have been the witnesses of my degradation. Let them now behold my restoration to the favor of the God whom I've offended.'

"Strange words, those, from a tramp, and I marveled at them. Without more ado we 'got down to business,' and it was nearly two hours later when we parted at the gate. In answer to a question of mine, Jim replied whimsically:

"'Where do I live while I'm working on this job? Well, you see, Father, I am rather particular with regard to my lodgings, and as there is nothing around here that quite suits me, I just crawl under the engine and sleep there.'

"'But when it rains, Jim?'

"'Well, it just rains, that's all.'

"The next morning Jim attended my Mass and received Holy Communion, and every morning after that when I entered the church to offer up the Holy Sacrifice the first person I would see would be my one-armed tramp kneeling in a far corner, his rosary slipping through his fingers. The rosary had belonged to his mother, and during all his years of tramping he had guarded it as his most precious treasure. He had worn it in a little chamois bag suspended from a string around his neck, but had not used it in many, many years. He came regularly one evening in each week to make his confession and to have a little chat with me. As the summer progressed I wondered more and more at this strange new acquaintance of mine; this rough looking tramp with the manners of a gentleman and the speech, except for a few lapses in the vernacular of the road, of a man of considerable education. The oddest thing of all was the feeling I had that somewhere, at some time, Jim and I had met before. Little tricks of voice and expression would seem strangely familiar.

"The summer gradually faded into autumn, and one evening in late September when I stood at the gate to say good-night to my tramp, he remarked sadly:

"'This is good-by as well as good-night, Father. I have given up my work here and am off early in the morning.'

"'Not the road again!' I cried, and the next second would have given anything to recall the thoughtless words. A pained look crossed Jim's face, but he answered quietly:

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