the man from nowhere

oHU

ou,

2 U,O =

p t0}

UI

OH22DXCX

O

o

00CO

oo

3. i. December, 1891 Published Monthly

NIVEF

&f8where

&9&%FLORA

HAINES

LOVGHEAD

FRANCISCO

C.A.Mundocfc & Co.

25 Cts. $2.50 per Annum

The Man from Nowhere

Flora Haines Loughead

- C. A. MURDOCK & Co.San Francisco

Copyright, 1891.

n ,xV->^" dv-

Cs x \

THE MAN FROM NOWHERE.

T the gate I turned an instant andlooked back, and there still stoodmy wife in her faded print dress,

Rob beside her, barefooted and ragged,and Ellie in her shabby little shoes.Even as I stood there looking, I felta sharp, quick throb of pain, like a

presage of the future, and somethingwarned me that memory had receivedthe picture, to fling it back, barbedwith anguish, in years to come.

I was only going away for a little

trip, a matter of a few hours ride byrail, to the State fair in a neighboringtown, where business called me. Notthat I was any great stock-raiser, thriv

ing horticulturist, or rushing businessman. Only a plain farmer. Shiftless, the neighbors called me, and wondered why Jane Markham had thrownover Torn Jones to marry me. Tom

The Man from Nowhere.

was a pushing, enterprising youngman, with a nice business in town,plenty of money, good looks, and abright, taking way with him. I, JamesBrown, was almost middle-aged whenI first saw her

;old for my age, as well,

with a sober way of looking at things,that came, perhaps, from the hardshipsI had always known. Shy of women,too, and with nothing to offer my wifebut a shabby little house a mile out oftown, a few acres of good grain landabout it, and a pair of hands that hadnever been soiled by a dishonest deed,and were willing to work to the bonefor the woman I loved.And I did work, but not in a way

that told. We got along well at first,selling our small crops at fair prices,raising chickens and sending eggs tothe market, with now and then a firkinof butter to spare ; living close, with noluxuries and few comforts to speak of,but setting out young fruit-trees and

The Man from Nowhere. 5

training vines about the house, until it

began to take on a sightly look, andwe had as happy a little home as anybody for miles around.

Until our second baby came thefirst had been a boy, but this was agirl up to this time I had been tolerably content to keep on as I was

going, and build up slowly and surelyfor the future. But looking at that

frail, delicate little creature, and thinking how helpless girls are on thisearth anyhow, and how bad it wouldbe if anything happened to me, mademe wish I could have some quick,splendid stroke of luck that would setus all ahead in the world, beyondchance of want. And then it was thata notion came into my head. Since Iwas a boy I had always had a hankering after machinery, arid a knack forputting things together. I was out inthe field, I remember, the sun blazingdown upon me, mowing grain with an

6 The Man from Nowhere.

old-fashioned reaper, and thinking ofall the labor before me in binding it

up into bundles, when the idea struckme. Thinks I, if only some machinecould be planned out now, that wouldcut the grain and bind it at the sametime, what a lot of work it would save.Yes, and be a fortune, too, to any man.Perhaps one might construct something that would do the whole thing.But how to go about it? I drew astump of a pencil from my pocket,took out a little account-book that I

always carried, and there, in the broil

ing hot sun, began to draw a plan ofthe machine.

Well, to make a long story short, Iworked four years upon it, day andnight. Often and often I ve got up inthe middle of the night and gone outinto my little shop, and studied uponthe thing, or put bits of brass and tintogether to see how they d work. Fouryears I kept at it, and the weeds grew


all over the place, the fence brokedown and cattle got in, and everythingwas well pn the road to ruin. To finish up my model and get the patentput through, I mortgaged the farm,and then, when it was all done andthe patent secured, I found there wasanother man already in the field witha machine that did the same work,and it was an open question whetherhis or mine was the best. That waswhat I was going down to the Statefair for. Both our machines were tobe taken out into the field for a test

trial, and upon whether I won or failed

depended all the results of four yearslabor.

I lived among a very practical set ofpeople, and you may readily believethat I hadn t a friend or neighbor butwhat had pronounced me a

"

poorstick" long before this. Everybodybut my wife ; she always had a patientsmile and a cheering word, though I


don t believe she ever had a grain offaith in my success. She came out onthe porch when I started off, Rob byher side, and Ellie, the little girl, inher arms. She was a wee creature,was Ellie, small for her age, but like adove in her ways. She stretched outher arms to hug and kiss me. As Itook her I noticed that her poor littleshoes were fairly falling to pieces.

"

Papa get Ellie some new shoes,"said the child, smiling up into my face.Poor little dear. The shame of it !My wife hadn t a decent dress to herback, and Rob had gone barefootedsince early spring. I looked at Jane,and it seemed to me for a moment thata quick spark of indignation shone inher eye.

"

Yes, yes, papa will get Ellie someshoes," I said hastily, then put herdown and started off. And then itwas that I turned and looked back,and the thought of all I d left undone


came over me, and it seemed as if Icouldn t take my eyes from them, andwhen I tried to walk off down theroad, my feet moved as if they wereweighted with lead.

I remember it all as well as if it hadbeen yesterday. It is twenty yearsgone by, but the events of that weekstand out in my mind like a bit ofwriting on a great blank page.Of course you know what State fairs

are throughout the Middle West?Always held in midsummer, when theweather is hot and sultry. A great,barn-like building, with narrow galleries running around above, and cobwebs hanging from the rafters. Thousands of people bustling in and out,asking questions, disputing over thestate of the crops, and quarreling overpremiums. Little boys and big boyshawking peanuts and lemonade; children crying from the heat; men sopping their faces with their handker-


chiefs;the air reeking with the smell

of machinery, hot cakes, preserves, andover-ripe fruit; everybody hot andmiserable, and the exhibitors all wondering why the committee couldn thave fixed the time a month or so earlier or later.

Well, as I was saying, there I was

along with the rest, in charge of mymachine, sometimes showing it off to

people, sometimes listening to my rival,who had the section adjoining mine,as he cried up the merits of his invention. The contest was not to come offuntil the last day of the fair, so, towhile away the time and keep as faras possible from the man who threatened to ruin my chances of success, Ineighbored a good deal writh the occu

pant of the next stall beyond me onthe other side. Oddly enough, of allmen in the world, this was Tom Jones.And oddly enough, of all things in theworld, he was there with an invention


of his own, a machine for hatchingchickens by artificial heat. A mostridiculous and impractical venture,every one agreed ; but Tom talked inquite a lofty way, of how it was nonew thing, but a practice among theold Egyptians, who used men insteadof coal-oil heaters, and somehow orother Tom had contrived to get out afew chickens, sickly little creaturesthat went chipping round and lookingthe miserable little orphans they were.However, Tom was rational on everyother subject, and we overlooked oldscores and grew quite friendly andsociable.

The weather wras hot, and the airwas close and sultry until we reachedthe last day but one. Then it grew sochoking and oppressive that peoplebegan to predict a change in theweather. And sure enough, just afternoon, dark clouds began to loom up inthe southwest, and the storm came


down upon us ; came with a loud roarand flashes of lightning, and the rainfalling in sheets. I remember lookingout of the window and thinking thatthe grain would be so wet the trial ofour machines would very likely be putoff. But the air was fresh and cool,and it seemed to me a day or so wouldmake little difference.

Just then Tom Jones came along,complaining of the heat. Tom s section was near the big engine that keptthe machinery running, and the coolair from outside hadn t reached him yet.

"I m cool as a cucumber/ said I." Hullo ! You ve got on a thick coatand I ve got on a thin one. Let s

change about."I never saw a man more relieved

than Tom, when he had handed overhis cassimere to me and got into mylinen duster.

" Ten thousand thanks to you,Brown," he said.

" If your mowing


machine turns out a failure, I ll giveyou an interest in my chicken-hatcher.

"

" Much good your old wooden henwill do anybody/

7

I shouted back,good-humoredly. Tom laughed backa reply, waving his hand in mockpride toward his little poultry-yard,when something awful happened.There was a terrible and deafeningroar, the air was thick with smoke andsteam and flying objects, drops of somehorrible fluid spattered everywhere,and I felt a stunning blow on the topof my head.The next that I remember I found

myself sitting on a pile of lumber outside. Somebody yelled :

" The engine has blown up !"

Some people were running out ofthe building and a great many wererunning toward it. There was a greatdeal of screaming and crying, but Icouldn t understand what it was allabout, and didn t care to. The pain in

14 The Man from Noivhere.

my head was intolerable. I put myhand up and found that my hair wassticky and wet with blood. I stolearound to the rear of the building andwashed myself there, but there werestains on my clothing that wouldn tcome off. Some people who werestanding about looked at me curiously,but I kept my head turned away, for itvexed me to be noticed. After a whileI went back to the pile of boards. Itwas dark then, and I felt stupid andtired, but had no inclination to goback to my boarding-place. In fact, Iwas so confused and mixed up that Iwasn t sure I could find it if I tried.

Gradually the noises became distantand indistinct, the lights receded, andthe big building faded away.The next that I remember I was

sitting up, wide awake. Not awake inthe ordinary sense of healthy, cheerful

activity of brain and body, but withthat dreadful pressure on my head

The Alan from Nowhere. 15

still weighting me down, wThile all my

faculties were unnaturally sharpenedand strained.

I knew now, as well as if I had beentold, exactly what had happened. TomJones had tried to WOAV up my machineand kill me. It was a vile conspiracyto get possession of my wife and property. Yes, and Jane was in it, andRob. I hadn t a friend on earth butpoor little Ellie, who was too smalland innocent to take part in their villainous schemes. Or, perhaps, he was

going to steal my patent.I would foil him there. My papers

were all safe in my breast-pocket. Ireached into my pocket and drew themout, and spread them before me in thepale light of dawn. Good heavens!They were all descriptions of the egg-hatcher, with cuts of the machine.Then I remembered the change ofcoats

;all a part of the same cruel plot.

My whole mind became concentrated


upon the thought of revenge. How toget even with them how to exposetheir blood-thirsty, diabolical attemptto the world? I held my head tightlybetween my hands, for it seemed as ifit would burst. Something came peeping and yipping over my foot. It wasone of those poor little half-featheredmonstrosities that Tom had hatchedout of his infernal machine.At the sight of this a brilliant

thought entered my mind. I wouldsteal Tom s patent. Not there, wherepeople knew all about it, and he hadfriends who would work against me,but I would go away off somewhereand get some rich man to take it up.There was a wealthy railway presidentin New York whose name I had seenin the papers, and who had a reputation for enterprise and bold speculation. I would go to him, lay downthe case, and get him interested in it.Once get capital enlisted on my side,


and Tom would have no sort of ashow.

I took the chicken and stuffed itinto my pocket for a sample. Somebody came along, and I knew it was aspy Tom had sent out to hunt aroundfor me and see if I was still alive. SoI crouched beside the pile of boards towait for the man to pass. The chickenin my pocket peeped I squeezed it tostop its noise ; it fluttered a little, but

pretty soon it was still. Then I rosecautiously and made my way down tothe big Union Depot, keeping on theoutskirts of the town and dodgingeverybody I saw. Luckily my walletwas in my trousers pocket, and I hadenough money to pay my fare, with alittle to spare.

I found it hard to count the moneywhen I paid for my ticket, and wassure the agent cheated me out of adollar. I told him so, with dignity,but would not make a fuss over it for


fear of attracting attention. I got into

the car and found a seat behind thedoor where I could be free from observation. The more I thought it over themore I disliked the idea of asking a

big capitalist to go into chicken-rais

ing. There seemed something meanand trifling in the very suggestion.But why bother with such insignificantthings? Since the principle would

apply to hens eggs, why not to turkeys ? And if to turkeys , why not toostriches ? Ah, I had it ! Alligators !That would be an enterprise worth

taking up. We would supply alligators for the New York market. Wewould see that every town in theUnited States had an alligator pond.We would fill orders from menageries,dime museums, zoological gardens.We would have great tanneries forcuring alligator skins, and supersedecalf-skin and goat-skin and kid. I wasso elated at the idea that I clapped my


hands and tossed my hat in the airand yelled.

"Here, you!" said the conductor,

angrily, coming up from the other endof the car, "what are you thinkingabout?"

"Alligators," said I, smiling shrewdlyat him, as I leaned forward with a handresting on either knee.

"

Well, behave yourself, anyhow."He looked at me very queerly, and

it struck me that he had a similarenterprise in view himself, but I

thought to myself that I d get aheadof him. When I reached New York Iwent first to a shoe store and boughtEllie s shoes. Then, I tell you, I lostno time in hunting up the president of the B. and G. Railroad. Adarkey who sat outside his door triedto keep me out, by telling me he wasengaged.

"

Engagements go to thunder !"

saidI

;

"

I ve come five hundred miles to


see him on a matter of the greatestimportance/The darkey saw I meant business,

and he wilted. I pushed my waypast him, and burst into a big officebeyond. There were four or five menin the room. One of them sat at a bigdesk covered with papers, and I knewhe was the man I was after. I put myhand to my head, to ease it and collectmy thoughts, for I knew everythingdepended upon putting the matter in anattractive and favorable light. All thewhile that intolerable pressure, thatawful sense of heaviness, as if somebodyhad bound an iron weight on my head.

"

I beg pardon for intruding, sir,but the business I wish to see you onadmits of no delay," I began.He interrupted me, a little fretfully,

it seemed to me :"

I wish you would put it off untilanother time

;I am engaged just now.

Call to-morrow."


I knew if I waited till tomorrow Ishould lose him. Besides, I felt queer-ly. Something might happen to prevent my coming, and so the chancewould go by. Tom Jones would getJane and the farm, and where wouldI be? The fear drove me to desperation.

" What ! and lose the chance of being called the Alligator King ?

"

I

shouted. " Think of walling in NewYork harbor and devoting it to alligator culture ! Alligator meat and alligator soup ! And tanneries for theskins. Think of the wealth, the famein store for us ! Hundreds of babyalligators bursting the shell at once."He was listening very attentively

now, and so were the other men."All friends?" said I, winking at

him and waving my hand in theirdirection.

"All friends," he repeated; but Inoticed he looked queer, and the other


men looked queer. He began to playwith a little knob on the wall besidehim.

" But how are you going to managethis thing ?

" he asked, politely, and Isaw I had him on the hook at last.

"

Ah, my dear sir, that is the secret,you see. I have the the plan of alittle device for hatching chickens,which, I am sure you will agree with

me, are not worth handling by men ofreally large minds. Nevertheless theyhatch out. Here is a specimen."

I drew the chicken from my pocketand proudly displayed it. Its eyeswere shut, and I couldn t get it to openthem

;and its legs were stiff ; but there

it was, all the same."

Asleep," I said, in explanation."

Ugh ! ugh !"

they exclaimed, putting their handkerchiefs to their noses.

I saw that they were not interestedin chickens, and so returned it to mypocket.


"

Alligators,7

I began with dignity,recalling something in an old school-

reader, "are viviparous animals, layingfifty to sixty eggs in a litter. All wehave to do is to capture a pair and letthem begin laying. You are a financier, my dear sir."

I picked up a steel eraser from thedesk and jabbed it in the air, to emphasize my statement. The threemen, who were standing, stepped backa little, and the railroad presidentjumped out of his chair and backed upagainst the w

r

all. Again I saw thequeer look in their eyes, and this timeI understood it. Every one of themwas stark, staring mad.

This horrible discovery so dumbfounded me that I did not know whatto do. Then I made a dash for a window, but somebody caught me frombehind. I fought desperately, but itwas no use; they were too strong forme. In less time than it takes to tell


it I was overpowered, dragged downstairs, put in a carriage, and was soonrattling away over the cobblestones.When I came to look at my captors,

I saw that their faces had changed.They wore blue coats and brass buttons, and looked like soldiers. I beggedthem to let me go, and tried to explainthe matter to them. One of themsnickered, and the other wouldn t lookat me. It was plain that he was deafand dumb. They took me to a bigbuilding, and into a large room, wherethree men were sitting on a raised

platform. They asked me some verycourteous questions, and I answeredthem as politely as I knew how. Somethings they asked me simple inquiries, too bothered me most unaccount

ably. What was my name, where didI live, how old was I ? If they wouldonly get into business matters, I knewmy head was clear there.A new man came into the room,


small but powerfully built, and looking like a professional man. Therewas a good deal of hand-shaking.One of the three said to him in a lowvoice :

" Glad you came in just now. Gota curious case. You question him."

In a few minutes the stranger turnedto me and began to talk. He had sucha kind, genial face, that I warmed tohim at once. Here was a man totrust, one who would appreciate theglory of becoming an alligator kingone who would push the enterpriseahead with a will worthy of such aglorious cause. I got him off into acorner, and commenced to develop myscheme. He assented at first, but presently I noticed that he had lost interest in what I was saying, and wasexchanging signs with the others.Ah ! I had him at last. The demon !

The arch-fiend who was persecutingme and driving me to ruin. Anger


rose about and within me, like a darkcloud. I sprang at his throat. Theywere all upon me, trying to hold me

back, but I fought like a tiger. I justmanaged to lay his cheek open withmy nails, when my brain seemed toseethe and bubble. I was fallingfalling falling. %Of what occurred next I have only

the faintest recollection. I was shut

up in a room with only one window,and that high up in the wall. I caredneither to eat, drink, nor sleep. Therewere horrible noises around me, andsome of them I made myself. Stillthat awful sense of pressure .and of

weight upon my brain. I could notthink connectedly, and I gave up trying.One morning I awoke, a new man.

A bar of sunshine fell through my window, and I could have knelt and worshipped it, so beautiful did it appear.It seemed to lift me up and restore me.


The ugly sense of pressure was all gone.I looked about me and tried to remember how I came there. The room wasdisgustingly dirty. There was littlefurniture in it, and what was therewas of a sort I had never seen before.Hastening to the door, I turned theknob. To my surprise it was locked.I beat upon it and called out for someone to open it. There was a narrow

grating in the center, and at this grating a man s face appeared.

"Why don t you open the door," Iasked quietly.He looked at me oddly for a moment

and then disappeared. A few minuteslater he returned with another man.I recognized him in a moment. Hewas the man I had assaulted. Anolder man than I thought, his shoulders a little bowed and his hair quitegray. I declare I felt ashamed of myself when he opened the door andcame in.


"Well, Mr.?" he looked at me

quite curiously."Brown, sir, James Brown," I said

promptly."What can I do for you to-day,

Brown/ 7 he said kindly, still keepinghis eye upon me with that keen,searching look.

"

I must go home, sir," I said earnest

ly. "The folks won t know what tothink of it. The fact is, I ve had ahorrible headache. I m afraid I vedone and said some queer things,"and I looked at his cheek. To mysurprise, it had all healed over, leaving only a faint white scar.

"Never mind, never mind," he saidhastily. "But now I want you toanswer a few questions."

"All right, sir," I said respectfully,

though I was in a great hurry to beoff.

Then he asked me who I was, andwhere I came from, and I told him;


and when I asked him civilly if he dbe kind enough to tell me who he was,lie only said he was Dr. R , andhad looked after me because I seemedto be sick.

"

Well, doctor," I said rising up,"

I mafraid I ve made but a poor return foryour hospitality. I acted rough whenI first saw you. But if you only knewthe state my head has been in ! I vesuffered the tortures of the damned.It s blunted all my faculties the pain.If you ll believe me, I couldn t tell, tosave my life, whether I ve been heretwo days or a week."A strange expression came over the

doctor s face as he listened to my apologies.

"Brown," said he, "suppose youcome to my private office after youhave washed and dressed. I want tohave a talk with

you."

Looking down at my clothes, I confess I felt ashamed. They really


looked as if they had been slept in fora month. Then the condition of myhands and finger nails ! I had a beard,too, of a week or so growth, stubby andrough, looking as if it had been jaggedoff with scissors.The doctor hurried me through a

long hall. I did not have time to look

round, but I noticed that there were

many doors like my own, opening offfrom it on either side. For this andother reasons I concluded that I wasin a large private hospital. He turnedme over to another man who led me toa bath-room. What a refreshment itwas to feel the touch of the cool water

upon my skin. I was loth to leave it,but when I finally came out of it anddressed myself in the fresh clothingprovided for me, I felt like a new man.

"Would you like to take a shave,sir?" asked the attendant in whosehands I had been placed. He put thequestion a little doubtfully, but there


was no hesitation in my mind as I ranmy hands over my chin.

" Indeed I would/ I replied heartily." Show me the way to a barber, there sa good fellow."For answer, he took me out of a

door and across a little open court towhat seemed another branch of theestablishment. There were a knightof the razor and his assistant, bothstout, burly looking men, and shelvesfilled with bottles and shaving mugs,looking as if they did a rushing business.

There was no one else there whenAve entered. I threw myself down inthe chair.

"Now give me a nice, quick shave,"I said, "for I m in a hurry and notime to

spare."

The man who came in with meposted himself near by, as if he took a

friendly interest in the operation. Thebarber tied a towel round my neck,


lathered my face, and went about theoperation. He probably did the besthe could, but he was a very bunglingfellow. I stood it until he had cut mea couple of times; then, as he tried tostaunch the blood with a napkin, Isnatched up the razor and ran myfinger over it.

" How on earth can you shave withsuch an edge?

"

I exclaimed, taking upthe strop and beginning to run the bladealong it. You would have thought Imeant to cut their throats, such an ex

pression as all three wore; and theybegan to move off from me.

"

I ll finish this job myself," I said,coolly, and walked up to a mirror.It was absurd to see how they gesticulated when I turned my back tothem, but by the time I had gotthrough and laid the razor down, theyappeared to feel relieved. Lookingin the glass, I was surprised to seehow little trace there was left of all


that I had suffered. My face was alittle sharp and thin, that was all.

" How much shall I pay you ? "

smiling at them rather contemptuously, until I happened to rememberthat I had on a suit of clothes I hadnever worn before, and that as I hadalready been lodged and boarded andhad medical attendance, my financialcondition must be rather shaky.

"Oh, nothing, nothing/ they assuredme

;

" the doctor makes all thatright."

Aye, the doctor. I had }^et to seehim, and find out how much my billwas, and have some understandingabout paying it. I had already firmlymade up my mind to go back to thefarm and work it, and leave all nonsensical inventions to men who hadmoney to spare for experiment menlike Tom Jones, for instance.The doctor was in a sort of study.

Books all around him, on every side.He looked serious.


" Sit down, sit down, Brown."I obeyed him, wondering."

Now, my man, think a little. Canyou tell me where you were, and whatyou were doing, before you came toNew York?"

"At the State fair, in Smartsville,"I answered, promptly ;

"

showing off

my machine and waiting for it to betested. It was awful hot weather allover the country the first of this

month, you know. I got clean faggedout. Then there came a thunderstorm, and the air was so cool that I

changed coats with a friend who wasnear the engine, and then somethingblew up. My head was gashed Ibelieve in my heart that had something to do with my headache."

" Poor fellow ! Poor fellow ! " said

the doctor. "Brown, are you strongenough is your brain clear enough,are your nerves stead}7 able to bear asevere shock? "


"Yes, sir/ I said, calmly, but myheart commenced thumping like atrip-hammer. I knew something hadhappened to Jane or the children.

" Tell me quick, sir," I said."

I

don t feel overstrong, and if it s anything hard to bear, I d rather begin to

get used to it right away."" Where do you suppose you are,

and how long do you think you vebeen here?" said the doctor, beatingabout the bush, like.

"

I suppose it s some kind of hos

pital," I said, slowly." And as to the

time maybe it s a week I hope it snot more. The folks at home wouldbe worried at not hearing from me."

" My poor fellow," said the doctor,and this time I shrank from the pityin his voice,

"

my poor fellow, this isthe State Insane Asylum, and youhave been here sixteen years."

"

Oh, my God!" I cried, and couldget no further. The awful horror of


it. The pity of it. What was the usetrying to comfort me, what was theuse telling me to keep up my spirits?Sixteen years gone out of a man s life,and he not know it !

" But my wife and children, doctor !What have they done all this time ?You re keeping something from me.Are they living or dead? To thinkI ve been only a burden and a shameto them, when they needed me so !

"

"

Brown," said the doctor, soberly,and measuring with his eye the effectof his words on me,

"

Brown, in thecase of the rest of our patients we knowmore or less about their previous lives,and the causes and conditions thathave brought them here. You camehere as a man whose identity was ab

solutely lost. The only papers foundupon you were some circulars contain

ing cuts and a description of anincubator, with the name of the inventor torn off. Here is the way in


which we registered you on our books."He took down a big volume, and

turned the leaves, then pushed ittoward me, with his finger half-waydown the page. I looked where hepointed, and read these words :

" TheMan from Nowhere"

I could not comprehend all at once.Jane and the children : Jane and thechildren! These words were sound

ing all the while like a funeral dirge.The doctor went on :

" There is some mystery about this

thing that I can t understand, and youmust help me to get at it. Why is ityou were not missed when that explosion occurred, and why were not yourfriends inquiring after you ? Let mesee what year was it when that explosion occurred ? Ah, 18 ; and themonth? August. Correct. Let uslook up the matter."He went to a cupboard beneath the

book-cases, and overhauled the files of


an illustrated weekly paper, until hecame to the account of the affair.There isn t space to tell you here aboutthe long illustrated description theyhad. Enough to state that twentymen were killed, and my name was onthe list. " Blown to pieces," the papersaid,

" and only identified by scraps ofclothing and certain papers, and anold coin in the coat-pocket." TomJones was said to be missing.

" That was the friend who had onmy coat," said I.

"

By Jupiter !"

said the doctor," that s the way the thing came about.They mistook him for you."

" Wait a bit," I said I wasn t usedto thinking, you see, and it took timefor me to follow him. Do you knowwhat it is for a man to decipher yourown history for you, word for wordand page after page, and scarce be ableto follow him ?

"Then he was killed," said I,


soberly, and the thought oppressedme. Such a dreadful death, and ourlast words together in joke. I couldsee how Tom looked that last day,when I chaffed him about his chickens.

"

Now, Brown," said the doctor,"

I

suppose you ll want to be off at once.Or would you rather write on first, tomake sure, and prepare your friends alittle?"

"My Lord, doctor," I burst out,"

I

can t go back now. What would bethe use ? Even if Jane is living, whichis perhaps likely, she being far youngerthan I I wasn t always a kind husband, doctor ; I was moody and out ofsorts, soured and disappointed by failure. And now to come back out of ablank a dead blank of sixteen years.Your name fits me now, doctor. I m the"Man from Nowhere," indeed. Wherehave I been all these years? YouVehad my living body, shut up in a cagelike a wild beast, but where was I, the


man, James Brown, all the time ?"

" You ve hit upon a puzzle to themetaphysicians, Brown," candidly re

plied the doctor." The man isn t liv

ing who can answer your question."Much I cared about his metaphysi

cians or their speculations." You don t understand, doctor,

about my wife. She s even better offwithout me. Perhaps she s married

again. I don t doubt she is. I ll leaveher alone. If my machine had been asuccess if I didn t have to go back anold man, and empty-handed !

"

" What was your machine, Brown?"The doctor had been running over thefile he held, and had stopped at someitem that seemed to interest him.

"

It was something for harvestingand binding grain," I answered care

lessly, for there was nothing in theworld I cared less for just then than

my invention. "It ran like fun, buteverybody was laughing at it. Of


course it was a fizzle. I, myself, can

see now that it was full of defects.

But, my Lord, what s the use of talking about it now !

"

"

Simply because I ve run across

something that concerns you. Lookhere," he said.

There, among a lot of personalnotices, was something that read aboutlike this :

"The sudden and shocking death of Mr.James Brown, at the time of the recent explosion at the State fair in Smartsville, has theelements of a double tragedy. He had spentyears of unwearying labor on the inventionof harvesting and binding grain, which wasgenerally looked upon as utterly chimerical,and on which he had expended his entire capital. On the day of his funeral the machine,which was uninjured by the explosion, wastested by competent judges, and pronounced acomplete success. A leading manufacturingfirm has made overtures to his widow, and itis understood that they have offered a largesum for the use of the patent."

"

Why, Mr. Brown," said the doctor,cheerfully ( I noticed that he used the


Mr. from that moment ),"

all you haveto do is to return home like the prodigal son, to be welcomed and feted, andrejoiced over."

Stupid and slow-witted as I am atbest, I knew better than the doctor.Who would hold a jubilee over theresurrection of a man who had neverbeen a favorite, never of any accountin the world, and who had only foundluck in going out of it ? Even whenthe doctor wrote on and found thatJane and the children were still living,and that the widow had never marriedagain, I felt no courage to go back.The widow ! Do you know what it isto come to yourself after years of worse

than oblivion, and to find yourself adead man, piously laid to rest andburied in the memory of your friendsand family ? To be a ghost, a desolate,wretched ghost, of no kin to the nextworld or to this, caring nothing fornew friends, and afraid to go back to


the old! Who would not be better offwith six feet of clay above him ?

I should never have had the courage to try it, if it hadn t been for thedoctor. He cheered me up and urgedme, and finally got me down to thedepot and aboard the cars, with myticket in my hand. He gave me something else a small paper parcel, look

ing away as he laid it on the seat besideme.

" We found it in your pocket whenyou came to us/ he said.

I knew what it was as quickly as Ilaid eyes on it. The shoes for littleEllie. It did me good to hold them,for it seemed a linkjbetween the prettydarling and me, but it weakened meunaccountably all the same.

I had a little plan of my own, that Ididn t confide to the doctor. I meantto happen in upon them as a stranger,and sound them like, myself, for I wasconfident my wife would never know


me. Then I should be sure. If Ifound that she was content and happywithout me, that life ran on smoothlyand my coming would be a break inany way, there would never be anyresurrection, but Jim Brown wouldremain as dead as if he were reallylaid away in the little graveyard.

I stopped there on my way out fromtown. Somehow it seemed to me Iwanted to go there first. It was easyto find the place. There, beside mydear old mother s grave, was another

mound, and on it lay a fading wreathof flowers.

The sight of them heartened me up.A strange thing, you will think, for aman to be cheered by the sight offlowers lying on his own grave, and hehimself alive and well beside it. Butit told me something more. It told methat in somebody s heart love and memory were still living, that somebodyheld me in tender remembrance.


A plain white shaft marked thegrave. One tiling about it puzzled me.It read :

To THE MEMORY OFJAMES BROWN,

OUR BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER,AUG.

,18.

That was all. Just the date of the

explosion. No "died," no commending my soul to the Creator, nor anyother of the pious formalities usuallyseen on gravestones. What did itmean? I couldn t make it out. Yetsomehow it seemed as if it bore a message for me.

It brought many things back to mymind; of how patient Jane had beenwhen she saw me loafing around andthe farm going to rack and ruin ; theimpatient answers I had often givenher; the way she had toiled andslaved, and I had forgotten to so muchas show her that I realized it; andwhether it wouldn t have been much

46 The Man from Noiuhere.

better to have done the plain dutythat lay before me, and not busiedmyself with ambitious plans. Thinking over these things, I looked up andsaw a young lady coming along thepath. She was tall and fair, with arosy flush on her cheeks from walking.In one hand she had a little bunch offlowers, and in the other she carried aroll of music.

I can t tell you, to save my life, howthe thought came to me that this was

my little Ellie, grown up to be a beautiful young woman, with new friends,new interests, lovers, maybe, and yetcaring enough for her plain old fatherwho ill-provided for her and neglectedher, to come all that way, over the

long, dusty road, to lay flowers on his

grave. But when she saw me shelooked at me resentful like, and drewherself up, and waited, expecting meto go away.Now, it may seem a very amusing


thing to you who read it, that a manshouldn t be welcome to visit his own

grave. But to me it was the most pitiful thing in the world. You see, bythat time I had quite made up mymind to go off and never show myselfto my folks. The other day somebodywho knows iny story put into my handa poem about a man named EnochArden, and it fixes me more stronglythan ever in the belief that when aman has been so long away, and hisown people have got used to livingwithout him, and their ways havegrown apart, it s a very risky thing tocome back and try to pick up thedropped threads of life. I thoughtthen I d just quietly slip away, andwrite to the doctor to say nothingabout it, and let things go on as theywere. So, if you ll believe me, itseemed to me at that moment themost pitiful thing in the world that Ishouldn t be wanted even there, at


that low mound, with the sun shiningon the grass that covered it, and thetall white stone rising above it. Andto see her, my own little girl grown up,standing there, hesitating and trembling, half afraid of rue and halfresentful at me for being there.

"Whose grave is it?"I had risen up and was starting off,

but I thought if I might only listen toher voice a moment it would be musicthat I could carry with me all the restof my darkened life.

" My father s."She spoke softly now, because she

saw I had no mind to trouble her;but

oil, the gentleness and tenderness withwhich she spoke those two words ! Tothink that she should remember me sokindly all those years.

" And your mother " Then Iwas dumb; I could nt say anotherword

;I wras so unused to talking, and

all the past and all the hopeless future

The Man from Noivhere. 49

seemed to rise up around me, and shutme in, and stifle me. And she. Whatbusiness had a stranger talking to herin that way ? no doubt she was think

ing. There we stood, father anddaughter, I knowing her for my ownlittle girl, who had clung about myneck and kissed me but yesterday ;she believing that I lay there underthe sod, and a stranger stood in myplace. AVas ever a situation like to

that? Is there any flesh and bloodcould stand it? Scarcely knowingwhat I did, I pulled a package outfrom my pocket and opened it, shegazing curiously on as I did so, withthat half-frightened look on her face.There were the little shoes shiningblack morocco faced with pink kid. I

thought of the little child who shouldhave worn them, and my eyes filledwith tears.

"

Oh, Ellie ! Little daughter ! Theywere for you. Don t you remember ?

"


Slowly the frightened look on herface gave way to wonder, and wondermade way for certainty, and my littlechild was back again, sobbing overme and caressing me in the dear oldway.

After awhile I told her a little, justa little, of what I had been through,and she, heaven bless her, told me ofhow they could never quite believe medead, but had hoped for years thatsome day they would hear from me.

" Come home, come home to mother,"

she cried at last.But all my doubts and fears and

questionings seemed to rise up againand bar the way before me. Ellieunderstood.

" You shall see ! " she said, with thesame proud ring in her voice that Janeused to have.And so we went down the road

together, and took the old path I knewso well. It led alongside a level, graded


road now, shaded with tall trees. Butwhen we came to the farm I held backand looked at Ellie, to make sure itwas the same, and that memory was

playing me no tricks. For there wasa tall, gray house in place of our

shabby little cottage, and the frontyard was laid out in winding pathsand drives, with flowers and shrub

bery, and a lawn where a fountain was

playing. Yet I could have sworn thesame roses and honeysuckle we usedto have still climbed over the front

porch." The very same place, father," said

Ellie, seeing how taken back I looked."You know mother sold the patent. Itis all your work."A tall young man came down to

meet ils. My mind had gone back tothe past, and I never thought of its

being Rob, my boy. We had planned,Ellie and I, that she should go on andspeak to Jane first, that she might not


get too great a shock, and so I turneddown a side path, while Ellie went onto the house. I walked on until Icame to the side of the house, wherethere was a sugar maple I had planted.The tree had grown tall and stout, withbroad branching arms that cast a

grateful shade. There was a seat beneath it, and a delicate-looking, elderlywoman was sitting there sewing. Ihad not forgotten my manners, and soI raised my hat and begged her pardon, and started to go away. But sherose to her feet, dropping her workupon the ground, and cried out in avoice I never could mistake.

Is it the constant beating of thehuman mind against its walls of flesh,the conscious pain and anguish ofspirit, that age the body ? As truly asI live to-day, the years that had passedover me almost without a trace hadturned my blooming young wife into afeeble, faded woman, and her hair was


white as snow. But oh, never so beautiful in her fair maidenhood, neverhalf so dear in her noble wromanhood,as now, when I held her in my arms,my heart full of thankfulness for thetruth, the love, the faith that had survived the most cruel test to whichever woman was subjected.

STAMPED BELOW

AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTSWILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURNTHIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTYWILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTHDAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAYOVERDUE.

the man from nowhere

Documents