The Zeit-Geist

Mills and start him on the road at the other side. Markham was little known at The Mills, and no one would be likely to take the companion of the constable to be the criminal for whose arrest he ha

he was going to row to The Mills by night, and those who heard him supposed that he had gained some information conce

the trees. The water was deep; there were no rocks, no hidden banks; he did not make all the haste he could, but rowed on meditatively-he was always more or less attracted by solitude. To-night the mechanical exercise, the darkness, the absolute loneliness, were

again with childlike simplicity; he explained to God that he could not feel it to be right or fair that, when he had prayed so very much, and prayers of the sort to which a blessing was promised, he should be given over to th

by the Deity, and gained therefore no satisfyi

; but when the light came he found a thin film of vapour between him and everything at which he looked. The light upon it was so great that it seemed to be luminous in itself, and it had a

did the landscape look, so wonderful and gigantic were the shapes which the dead trees assumed. Then he continued his path, looking for a tree that was black and blasted by lightning. He was obliged to grope his

e at intervals in the outer row of standing ones; then there was a br

hat place-was that of human speech; it was still some distance away, but he heard a v

h came over him. For a moment he thought that his wisest course would be to return. Then he decided to go forward; but before obeying this command, his mind gave one of those sudden self-attentive flashes the capacity for which marks off the mind of the reflective type from others. He saw himself as he sat there, his whole appearance and dress; he took in his history, and the place to which that hour had brought

s alone apparent. He was growing strangely excited after his long calm despondency; no doubt the exc

oar was caught by the owner of the noisy voice, for before he could see any one

e, Markham?"

ans

ling, the trees looked far away, large and unreal. At length among them he saw the great log that had fallen al

rkham." Then in a moment, by way of

e of his pantomime now that there was some one to speak to was made g

from your daughter-I'm not going to arrest you, but se

before him was in some stage of delirium. Toyner won

Whether he was sane or mad, it was clearly necessary to take him from that place. Markham retained a sullen silence, but seemed to understand so far th

ulled the other by the legs, and guided him as he slipped

shing off the boat. There was a heavy boat-pole ready for use in shallow wat

ards some other dangerous obstacle. Then Markham, with the sudden swift cun

an ox shivers and sinks under th

, looked not alone at the form of the fallen man before him, but all

og on which he had lived for so long. He took the long mesh of woollen sheeting that his daughter had brought to be a rest and support to his own body, and with it he tied Toyner to the upright tree against which the log was lying; then, with an additional touch of fiendish satire, he took a bit of dry bread o

the placid moonlit water and the still, moonlit mist, the boat dashed like a dark streak up the white winding Ahwewee toward the green forest around Fentown Falls. The small dark figure of the man