A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others

le, improbable way know more of her history. I even lounged into the Casino, tried the door at which I had knocked the night before, and, finding it locked and the scrubwoman suspicious, strolle

ing the Casino, and within a short distance of the Noah's-ark trees. Every afternoon, near the hour of twilight, when the shadows reach down Mount Pilatus, and the mists

ches. The church was ghostly dark,-so dark that the hundreds of heads melted into the mass of pews, and they into the gloom of column and wall. The only distinguisha

ecked. Once a child dropped a book, the echoes lasting apparently for minutes. The darkness became almost black night. Only the clean, n

oft cadence of the angelus calling the peasants to prayers. Then, a pause and another burst of melody, ending in profound silence, as if the door of heaven had been opened and as quickly shut. Then a clear voice springing into life, singing like a lark, rising, swelling-up-up-filling the church-the roof-the sky! Then the heavenly door thrown wide, and the melo

st swept across my mind. I heard again the long winding note of the bugle echoing through the pines, the dead in uneven rows, the moon lighting their faces. I caught once more the cry of the girl my friend loved, he who died and never knew. I saw the quick plunge of the strong swimme

ound that a low sob from the pew across the aisle startled me. I strained my eyes, and caught the outlines of a woman heavily veiled. I could see, too, a child besi

ness; only the feeling everywh

urch, with unsteady, shambling gait, holding in one hand a burning taper,-a mere speck. In the other he carried a rude lantern, its wavering light hovering about his feet. As he passed in his lon

trembling hand, flickered uncertainly like a moth, and rested on the top of this candle. Then the wick kindled and burned. As its rays felt their way over the vast interior, struggling up into the dark roof, reachin

indled two other candles on the dista

t in front, drawing the child to her. The boy cuddled closer. As she turned, a spark of lig

antern. As he neared my seat the woman stood erect, and passed out of the pew, her hand caressing the child. Surely I could not be mistaken about that movement, the slow, undulating, rhythmic walk, the floating shadow of the night before. C

as it lay buried in his curls. The old, bent sacristan stepped in front, swinging his lantern, t

fixed her eyes on the lantern's ghostly shadows. I leaned over quickly. The glow of the rude lamp, with i

whole form trembling, bent, her body swaying. Only when the sacristan moved a few paces ahead

, crossed herself, drew the boy closer, and, with his