After journey long and wearisome, heReached the Crescent City and the home ofColonel Vail. The aged man now mellowedBy weight of years, remorseful, mourningAnd alone, received him kindly, answered:“Her father’s name was Simon Blake, he wasMurdered by a Mexican upon theDock. The child, my grandchild’s name was Blake.The man who loved my daughter came and found herDying. ’Twas he who took the child away,And they were lost at sea.” Gilbert had theStory of her life—her name was ZolaBlake.With heavy heart he homeward turned, yetNo less loyal to his Zola. With sadMisgivings waited for the coming ofThe ship—long overdue—by stormy seaKept back. Waiting, pondered gloomily; heMust go and bear the tidings that would solveThe mystery of her name, but leave aDarker shadow than before. Still would sheRefuse his name they would go away fromPalomar. They at the rancho, left soHappily, what would he say to them? AtLast with tattered sail and broken, cameThe ship. He hastening, learned that it wouldLay at anchor there yet two days more inMending. Hopeless, yet with strange desire toLinger there, again he visited theHospital where Zola’s mother died; butAs before, no voice could answer aught ofHer; yet caught a thread of hope—an agedPriest in near-by parishmightremember.The father heard him,—listened eagerly;Then in his book of records found the dateWhen Lola Vail and Cedric Vaughn were wed;And the christening of her daughter—their child.Left with him for Cedric, left by Lola,The treasure he had brought from Mexico,Lola’s diary, presents he had given,And a miniature of Cedric done byHer own hand; then to the house where they wereMarried and her resting place. Gilbert tookThe proof to Colonel Vail and togetherThey rejoiced. He begged that he would bring hisGrandchild there when they were wed, and CedricVaughn, that he might grasp the hand of that trueMan. Now, to Gilbert’s happy heart attunedBy hope’s fruition, Nature brought a newGlad song. The bird notes rang with sweeterMelody—sunshine brighter—bluer skies—Even in the tumbling troughs of ocean’sDepth, he read the mirrored light of love andJoy. Thro’ long and dreary days beneath aTropic sun,—in calm, or fog, or buffetedBy winds adverse, the good ship sped ’til thro’The mild Pacific’s purple haze, PointLoma came in view and then, across theMesa, to the hacienda,home again.With mysterious air, and teasing told,Or partly told the story. Yes; he hadFound a fairy queen and when again theGreat round moon came o’er the mountain top, she,Riding on its silvery beams, would come inState,—would come with him—come to the rancho.They must “’bide-a-wee” and trusting him, waitPatiently. So he left them wondering.
After journey long and wearisome, heReached the Crescent City and the home ofColonel Vail. The aged man now mellowedBy weight of years, remorseful, mourningAnd alone, received him kindly, answered:“Her father’s name was Simon Blake, he wasMurdered by a Mexican upon theDock. The child, my grandchild’s name was Blake.The man who loved my daughter came and found herDying. ’Twas he who took the child away,And they were lost at sea.” Gilbert had theStory of her life—her name was ZolaBlake.With heavy heart he homeward turned, yetNo less loyal to his Zola. With sadMisgivings waited for the coming ofThe ship—long overdue—by stormy seaKept back. Waiting, pondered gloomily; heMust go and bear the tidings that would solveThe mystery of her name, but leave aDarker shadow than before. Still would sheRefuse his name they would go away fromPalomar. They at the rancho, left soHappily, what would he say to them? AtLast with tattered sail and broken, cameThe ship. He hastening, learned that it wouldLay at anchor there yet two days more inMending. Hopeless, yet with strange desire toLinger there, again he visited theHospital where Zola’s mother died; butAs before, no voice could answer aught ofHer; yet caught a thread of hope—an agedPriest in near-by parishmightremember.The father heard him,—listened eagerly;Then in his book of records found the dateWhen Lola Vail and Cedric Vaughn were wed;And the christening of her daughter—their child.Left with him for Cedric, left by Lola,The treasure he had brought from Mexico,Lola’s diary, presents he had given,And a miniature of Cedric done byHer own hand; then to the house where they wereMarried and her resting place. Gilbert tookThe proof to Colonel Vail and togetherThey rejoiced. He begged that he would bring hisGrandchild there when they were wed, and CedricVaughn, that he might grasp the hand of that trueMan. Now, to Gilbert’s happy heart attunedBy hope’s fruition, Nature brought a newGlad song. The bird notes rang with sweeterMelody—sunshine brighter—bluer skies—Even in the tumbling troughs of ocean’sDepth, he read the mirrored light of love andJoy. Thro’ long and dreary days beneath aTropic sun,—in calm, or fog, or buffetedBy winds adverse, the good ship sped ’til thro’The mild Pacific’s purple haze, PointLoma came in view and then, across theMesa, to the hacienda,home again.With mysterious air, and teasing told,Or partly told the story. Yes; he hadFound a fairy queen and when again theGreat round moon came o’er the mountain top, she,Riding on its silvery beams, would come inState,—would come with him—come to the rancho.They must “’bide-a-wee” and trusting him, waitPatiently. So he left them wondering.
After journey long and wearisome, heReached the Crescent City and the home ofColonel Vail. The aged man now mellowedBy weight of years, remorseful, mourningAnd alone, received him kindly, answered:“Her father’s name was Simon Blake, he wasMurdered by a Mexican upon theDock. The child, my grandchild’s name was Blake.The man who loved my daughter came and found herDying. ’Twas he who took the child away,And they were lost at sea.” Gilbert had theStory of her life—her name was ZolaBlake.
With heavy heart he homeward turned, yetNo less loyal to his Zola. With sadMisgivings waited for the coming ofThe ship—long overdue—by stormy seaKept back. Waiting, pondered gloomily; heMust go and bear the tidings that would solveThe mystery of her name, but leave aDarker shadow than before. Still would sheRefuse his name they would go away fromPalomar. They at the rancho, left soHappily, what would he say to them? AtLast with tattered sail and broken, cameThe ship. He hastening, learned that it wouldLay at anchor there yet two days more inMending. Hopeless, yet with strange desire toLinger there, again he visited theHospital where Zola’s mother died; butAs before, no voice could answer aught ofHer; yet caught a thread of hope—an agedPriest in near-by parishmightremember.
The father heard him,—listened eagerly;Then in his book of records found the dateWhen Lola Vail and Cedric Vaughn were wed;And the christening of her daughter—their child.Left with him for Cedric, left by Lola,The treasure he had brought from Mexico,Lola’s diary, presents he had given,And a miniature of Cedric done byHer own hand; then to the house where they wereMarried and her resting place. Gilbert tookThe proof to Colonel Vail and togetherThey rejoiced. He begged that he would bring hisGrandchild there when they were wed, and CedricVaughn, that he might grasp the hand of that trueMan. Now, to Gilbert’s happy heart attunedBy hope’s fruition, Nature brought a newGlad song. The bird notes rang with sweeterMelody—sunshine brighter—bluer skies—Even in the tumbling troughs of ocean’sDepth, he read the mirrored light of love andJoy. Thro’ long and dreary days beneath aTropic sun,—in calm, or fog, or buffetedBy winds adverse, the good ship sped ’til thro’The mild Pacific’s purple haze, PointLoma came in view and then, across theMesa, to the hacienda,home again.
With mysterious air, and teasing told,Or partly told the story. Yes; he hadFound a fairy queen and when again theGreat round moon came o’er the mountain top, she,Riding on its silvery beams, would come inState,—would come with him—come to the rancho.They must “’bide-a-wee” and trusting him, waitPatiently. So he left them wondering.
To Palomar he flew—told all that heHad learned—laid the proof before them—describedThe house where Cedric lived—told of the battle onThe dock—how Morales died—the bags ofGold from Mexico. Thus aided, CedricWoke as from a dream, remembered all; thenPlacing Zola’s hand in his, withdrew toBe alone with sacred memories.HandIn hand the lovers blissful roved amongThe crags and overhanging boughs where sheHad watched unseen, for him. Led him thro’ theBrake, in forest solitudes, where lemonLilies nestling grow, and clinging vinesAnd nodding ceanothus plumes bedrapeThe foliage in Nature’s millinery.With love and kisses roamed until the dayWhen proudly and triumphant, Gilbert ledThem thro’ the avenues of spreading palms andVine-clad arches of the hacienda.His mother welcomed her with tears of joy,“Her daughter”—then met the fathers—met inGlad surprise—for Cedric Vaughn and HomerLee stood face to face; again renewed theOld time bonds of love and friendship made theStronger.Then came another presence onThe scene. Radiant in the ripened bloomOf womanhood—as beautiful as inThe happy days of old—came Dora LeeTo welcome Cedric Vaughn and Lola’s child.On the Gilbert rancho (named for him), in theDreamy quiet of a summer eve, whileSoftly chimed the distant mission bells,At the hacienda, sweet Zola VaughnAnd Gilbert Lee were wed. And when theAutumn came, and vine, and bough and field gaveForth their richest fruitage, and falling leavesBetokened ripeness—the sure rewardOf patient waiting—two faithful souls wereJoined as one. Again rang forth the silveryChime of wedding bells—old mission bells—thatEchoed from the gilded cross above itsHoary walls, a benediction sweet asIncense from its altars.Long, long agoBack to the happy scenes of youth they sailed,And left the hidden cabin to decay.
To Palomar he flew—told all that heHad learned—laid the proof before them—describedThe house where Cedric lived—told of the battle onThe dock—how Morales died—the bags ofGold from Mexico. Thus aided, CedricWoke as from a dream, remembered all; thenPlacing Zola’s hand in his, withdrew toBe alone with sacred memories.HandIn hand the lovers blissful roved amongThe crags and overhanging boughs where sheHad watched unseen, for him. Led him thro’ theBrake, in forest solitudes, where lemonLilies nestling grow, and clinging vinesAnd nodding ceanothus plumes bedrapeThe foliage in Nature’s millinery.With love and kisses roamed until the dayWhen proudly and triumphant, Gilbert ledThem thro’ the avenues of spreading palms andVine-clad arches of the hacienda.His mother welcomed her with tears of joy,“Her daughter”—then met the fathers—met inGlad surprise—for Cedric Vaughn and HomerLee stood face to face; again renewed theOld time bonds of love and friendship made theStronger.Then came another presence onThe scene. Radiant in the ripened bloomOf womanhood—as beautiful as inThe happy days of old—came Dora LeeTo welcome Cedric Vaughn and Lola’s child.On the Gilbert rancho (named for him), in theDreamy quiet of a summer eve, whileSoftly chimed the distant mission bells,At the hacienda, sweet Zola VaughnAnd Gilbert Lee were wed. And when theAutumn came, and vine, and bough and field gaveForth their richest fruitage, and falling leavesBetokened ripeness—the sure rewardOf patient waiting—two faithful souls wereJoined as one. Again rang forth the silveryChime of wedding bells—old mission bells—thatEchoed from the gilded cross above itsHoary walls, a benediction sweet asIncense from its altars.Long, long agoBack to the happy scenes of youth they sailed,And left the hidden cabin to decay.
To Palomar he flew—told all that heHad learned—laid the proof before them—describedThe house where Cedric lived—told of the battle onThe dock—how Morales died—the bags ofGold from Mexico. Thus aided, CedricWoke as from a dream, remembered all; thenPlacing Zola’s hand in his, withdrew toBe alone with sacred memories.
HandIn hand the lovers blissful roved amongThe crags and overhanging boughs where sheHad watched unseen, for him. Led him thro’ theBrake, in forest solitudes, where lemonLilies nestling grow, and clinging vinesAnd nodding ceanothus plumes bedrapeThe foliage in Nature’s millinery.
With love and kisses roamed until the dayWhen proudly and triumphant, Gilbert ledThem thro’ the avenues of spreading palms andVine-clad arches of the hacienda.His mother welcomed her with tears of joy,“Her daughter”—then met the fathers—met inGlad surprise—for Cedric Vaughn and HomerLee stood face to face; again renewed theOld time bonds of love and friendship made theStronger.
Then came another presence onThe scene. Radiant in the ripened bloomOf womanhood—as beautiful as inThe happy days of old—came Dora LeeTo welcome Cedric Vaughn and Lola’s child.
On the Gilbert rancho (named for him), in theDreamy quiet of a summer eve, whileSoftly chimed the distant mission bells,At the hacienda, sweet Zola VaughnAnd Gilbert Lee were wed. And when theAutumn came, and vine, and bough and field gaveForth their richest fruitage, and falling leavesBetokened ripeness—the sure rewardOf patient waiting—two faithful souls wereJoined as one. Again rang forth the silveryChime of wedding bells—old mission bells—thatEchoed from the gilded cross above itsHoary walls, a benediction sweet asIncense from its altars.
Long, long agoBack to the happy scenes of youth they sailed,And left the hidden cabin to decay.
A New BookUp the GradeBYDAVID W. EDWARDSAuthor of“The Hidden Cabin,”“Billy Birdsall,”etc.A strong romance, natural and absorbing.It has a special message to young men.Both young and old will find pleasure and profit in its pages.The hero is a fine type of manhood.A healthful and helpful story with inspiration to human betterment.Illustrated, $1.50At all Book StoresThe C. M. Clark Publishing CompanyBOSTON, MASS.
A New BookUp the GradeBYDAVID W. EDWARDSAuthor of“The Hidden Cabin,”“Billy Birdsall,”etc.A strong romance, natural and absorbing.It has a special message to young men.Both young and old will find pleasure and profit in its pages.The hero is a fine type of manhood.A healthful and helpful story with inspiration to human betterment.Illustrated, $1.50At all Book StoresThe C. M. Clark Publishing CompanyBOSTON, MASS.
A New Book
Up the Grade
BY
DAVID W. EDWARDS
Author of
“The Hidden Cabin,”“Billy Birdsall,”etc.
A strong romance, natural and absorbing.It has a special message to young men.Both young and old will find pleasure and profit in its pages.The hero is a fine type of manhood.A healthful and helpful story with inspiration to human betterment.
A strong romance, natural and absorbing.
It has a special message to young men.
Both young and old will find pleasure and profit in its pages.
The hero is a fine type of manhood.
A healthful and helpful story with inspiration to human betterment.
Illustrated, $1.50At all Book StoresThe C. M. Clark Publishing CompanyBOSTON, MASS.