The seal of destiny

Chapter I

It was the close of a summer day. A gentle breeze was springing up, stirring the foliage, swaying the grass and fanning the cheeks of a little girl who sat dreamily gazing through an open window at the sun sinking in glory behind a drift of clouds which were visible above the boughs of a fruit orchard across the way.

She inhaled the odor of a bush of roses that grew beneath the casement, one tendril of which had pushed its way through the lattice and being deprived of sunshine and rain had put forth blighted blossoms and pale green leaves. The child, whose name was Alta, fingered it tenderly as she wondered why it had grown in that direction instead of some other, and compared it to those unfortunate people who have made the mistake of getting in the wrong place and thereby not only blighting their lives, but possibly frustrating opportunities to make themselves useful to their fellow-beings.

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Although but twelve years of age, Alta was very studious, and earnestly desired to make her life useful and of some good to every one with whom she came in contact.

Her father, Mr. Townsley, was a working-man, supporting his family by daily labor.

Their home was in Illinois, not many miles from the state’s capital and therefore was situated in a rich agricultural district. Had it not been for the wealthy farmers living in the vicinity, who supplied the villagers with work, their circumstances would have been more straitened than they were, as few among them were financially able to give his neighbor employment. Usually the daughters of these villagers found situations as domestics in the farmers’ families as soon as they were old enough to perform household duties. Knowing nothing better and dreaming of nothing else, Alta Townsley eagerly looked forward to the time when she should reach the age and be strong enough to go out to service and thereby be enabled to clothe herself and save her father this expense, and if she could, to spare him a part of her wages to spend upon the younger children, her sympathetic disposition leading her to always think of others.

Mrs. Townsley although a woman of limited education was naturally refined and would have made things comparatively pleasant even in a home of poverty, had not her husband, who was hardened from always battling with odds, been constantly storming about, scolding his wife and children, the latter of whom he had domineered over until they stood in terror of and dared not

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disobey him; and it mattered not how much they tried to please him and win his approval, he was not susceptible to kindness and did not care to please others.

Always under the impression that educated people thought themselves better than the uneducated, Mr. Townsley had been heard to say that none of his children should become educated and thereby show him the disrespect of rising above him, and therefore if he discovered a spark of sentiment, or saw a disposition to refinement, in any one of them he immediately set about to crush it, by becoming more cruelly exacting and sending the offender to perform some difficult manual labor.

Alta, with her ardent love for all the beautiful tilings of life, was the one to most frequently provoke parental displeasure, therefore the one who received the worst punishment. The more he tried to harden her and the more she strove to not offend him the more nature determined she should develop according to its plans and grow up from childhood into quiet, gentle and kindly dispositioned girlhood whose purity and refinement was stamped on every feature.

With all his faults, Mr. Townsley was a hard working man and such provision as he was able to make for those depending upon him was always honestly provided.

Giving to her flowers and books all the time she could spare, Alta found as she reached her fourteenth year she was without companions, there being none among the village girls of her age who cared for poetry and botany or had tastes similar to her own. So the distance between her and her childhood playmates widened, and not infrequently cutting remarks reached her, about the way Alta Townsley was holding herself above folks who were as good as she. At first these reports disturbed the girl, and she was hurt that she should be so judged by her schoolmates. But becoming accustomed to it, and knowing there was no foundation other than jealousy, for this state of affairs, she dismissed the subject from her thoughts and became more closely than ever united to her books and her garden, while she wished with all her heart, that her father could by some good fortune become possessed of the means to fulfill the one great desire of his life to move his family to some of the southwestern states, and thereby better their condition.

Having a talent for drawing, Alta had on one occasion won a prize for a crayon sketch, and this success prompted her to compete for a ten-dollar prize offered for the best drawing done by her class. The girl's pride kept her from mentioning to any one what she was about to undertake, always thinking if she failed she would thus be saved humiliation.

The spot she chose to sketch was a daisy-field just back of her father’s garden. Through one corner of this meadow flowed a clear, sparkling brook, spanned by a fallen tree "which had done service as a bridge for years. Near one end of this log grew a gnarled elm-tree in a drooping bough of which an oriole had built her nest, and returned and occupied it for several seasons. This

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was a hallowed spot to Alta, for under this tree she had played since childhood and the first brave act of her life was when she succeeded in crossing the brook on the log bridge, thereby winning her brother’s praise.

The Seal of Destiny.

Chapter II

One day while working upon the drawing, which was about finished, Alta was startled by her father’s harsh voice. “Go into the house and burn that trash,” he commanded. And taking her arm he hurried her indoors. Once out of sight of the neighbors, he tightened his grip and shook her. Then snatching the drawing from her hand, he threw it into the fire, w r here the frightened girl saw the flames devour it. Angered beyond control, he threatened her with a worse punishment, should he catch her wasting her time in such a way again, and ordered her to prepare some rice gruel for one of the children who was ill.

Although grieved that her sketch should at the last moment became ill-starred, Alta forced back the tears, as she poured the pearly grains of rice from one hand to the other.

Suddenly her attention was arrested by some small bean-shaped seeds mixed through the grain. She had many times seen these seeds in rice but it had never occurred to her to question what they might bring forth were they planted.

Many times things come apparently as a solace for some denied pleasure. So it was with Alta. She had hoped to win the ten dollars that she

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might give it to her father to help him move, and now the trivial incident of planting these seeds was in course of time to bring about that much longed for event.

One autumn day, Alta and her sister Winifred were returning from the woods with baskets of nuts, and were walking leisurely along the country road, Alta frequently stopping to examine the wild-flowers which grew by the wayside. The girls made a picturesque pair as they sauntered along, clad in their faded calico gowns and gingham sun-bonnets.

Hearing the sound of hoofs they turned and saw coming after them, on horseback, a young man whom they recognized as the son of a farmer living in the neighborhood.

This young Mr. Wilson the Townsley children had known since infancy, but being of a wealthy family, and moving in different circles, they had never spoken to him, and they expected him to pass without noticing them, but Mr. Wilson was impelled to be polite to the poverty-stricken, and he felt somewhat lonely as he rode along the highway. They were surprised when they saw him reining in his horse.

Greeting them pleasantly, he stood talking for awhile, finally remarking that he knew who they were, as he had seen them many times when passing their father’s cottage. “Do you not think it is time we were putting aside formality and becoming more neighborly ?” he asked. Springing from his horse, and slipping the rein over his arm he walked along with them, his well groomed appearance contrasting strongly with their coarse

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shoes and faded garments. The girls soon forgot their embarrassment and found themselves pleasantly entertained, as he related incidents of his childhood, home and school life. He told them that, at present, he was home on a vacation from St. Louis, where he was a law student.

“My vacation is drawing to a close, and I must soon be deprived of the freedom of country life, and be shut up in the close schoolroom for another long siege of close application to books. The advantage of an education is the greatest blessing, and I presume your parents intend to have you receive the best the village affords ?” he said.

“I am sorry to say/ 5 Alta candidly replied, “that papa does not see the need of an education, but I intend to have an education. No power in the world can prevent me from having the one longing of my life gratified. To become an educated woman, I resolved long ago, and with this object in view all my spare time of the past three years has been given to study/ 5 she said with a sigh.

The beautiful autumn days glided all too soon into the ruder days of winter, and with the cold weather came all the hardships and discomforts of previous years. Not being able to afford heaters, the Townsleys tried to keep warm by remaining near their cooking stove, while the dreary months passed slowly.

At the beginning of school, Mr. Townsley told Alta and her brother Herbert, who was older than she, that they must make the most of this term as he intended it to be their last, for in the spring he expected them to find employment and henceforth help support themselves. This announcement was

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not altogether unpleasant to Alta, who,~although she loved study, was anxious to earn money to help the rest of the family. From early childhood the mystery of plant life had had the greatest fascination for the girl, and untutored, she had groped her way into the hidden life of vegetation, without a reference book to guide her until at the age of ten she was quite at home in the domain of flora. All the recreation she cared for was working in the garden, not infrequently rising when the dawn was just pearling in the east and going forth to her self-appointed task of studying the nature of some plant which had interested her.

One bright spring day, Alta was busying herself among her flowers, and hearing her name called, she turned and saw Mr. Wilson standing at the gate. Pleased to see him she advanced to meet him with extended hand.

“I have never seen you when you were not studying flowers, either by the wayside, in your garden, or climbing the hill searching among the undergrowth for some unfortunate blossom which has been deprived of sunshine and naturally sprung forth a pale and feeble plant.”

“Perhaps it would not have solicited my sympathy had it not been an abused specimen of its kind,” Alta answered. “I have never mentioned it, for fear of being ridiculed, but I think I may safely tell you, that the one yearning of my life is to gain a knowledge of plant life.”

“Then botany is what you should study, and if you are certain nothing else can bring you the same pleasure, why I earnestly commend it to you, and would advise you to give up any other plane you may have made, in pursuance of this. Have you studied botany?” he asked, looking down on her golden brown hair over which the soft rays of the sinking sun were casting a beautiful sheen.

“Not from books. I have never read anything on the subject, but I wish I might, it would be a great help to me.”

“When did you first become interested in the study?” Mr. Wilson asked.

“I cannot remember, it has fascinated me always. Among the first things that aroused my childish curiosity were two plants of the same family, which produced different colored blossoms and also different shades. My first attempt to study nature was when about five years of age.

“I had planted some aster seeds, and was delighted to see when they put their tender green shoots through the ground that they were all alike, but was nonplused when they commenced to bloom, to see the blossoms ranged from a deep purple to a delicate lavender. Reasoning that lack of strength caused the paler blossoms, I gave them all the care, but found that with my labor they still remained the same. From then until now, all my spare time has been given to this one pursuit.”

“I should advise you to continue it,” Mr. Wilson said, “and I will see that you get some books to help you. I think there are some in my father’s library.”

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Chapter III

For four successive summers Alta cultivated the plant grown from the seed found in the rice. Untiringly she had tended it from season to season, and as she saw it each succeeding year grow stronger and more compact she was well rewarded for her trouble. Thinking that possibly she was the first to cultivate this small species from nature’s garden, she was pleased that she had taken an humble and unnamed weed, unknown, perhaps, except to the rice growers by whom most likely it was considered a nuisance, and brought it by industry and faithful attention to a state of perfection. She loved to think of how it must have appeared in its native wild, all tangled with grass and other weeds. Admiring the plant with its fern-like leaves and delicate pink blossoms, Alta fondly imagined it was mutely bowing its thanks to its rescuer as it gently swayed in the summer breeze.

Reading an agricultural journal, Alta found the advertisement of a florist who offered a prize of fifty dollars for the best novelty, in the way of a flower, that might be sent in by amateur gardeners. At once her rice flower, as she called her plant, came to mind, and she decided to forward it immediately to the florist. With Herbert’s help she carefully crated it, that in transportation it might not get broken.

Mr. Townsley had been saying that if it was possible he intended to move in the late autumn. With this object in view he saved every dollar he could spare from their immediate needs, hoping to get enough to buy a team and wagon, as he wanted to move by vehicle. Every time he mentioned it in his daughter’s presence, she hoped that she might be the lucky one to draw the prize. All she had heard from her beloved flower since sending it away, was the acknowledgment from the nurseryman of its safe arrival.

The hot tiresome summer was gone and the golden days of autumn with their cool nights and refreshing breezes, were gently approaching.

One day when returning with her sister from a ramble in the woods, a letter was handed to Alta by her brother who had brought it from the office. Knowing by the post-mark that it was from the florist who had her plant, her heart beat rapidly but with her usual dignity she went into an adjoining room to read it. She had weeks since given up the hope of hearing favorably from it, therefore was unprepared for the happy result, the pleasure of which was half spoiled by the fear of how her father, with his peculiar way of accepting things from his children, would receive her explanation of the transaction. And with a nervous dread of trying to explain it, she decided to ask Herbert to help her.

A few days previous to their starting on their

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journey southward, Mr. Wilson called to bid Alta good-by. He was now through his school days, had been admitted to the bar, and had taken up his practice in the capital of the state.

“In searching through a second-hand book store, I came across a copy of ‘Gray’s School and Field Botany/ and also a copy of ‘How Plants Grow/ by the same author, and knowing your inability to secure such works, I have brought them to you/’ Mr. Wilson explained as he handed a parcel to Alta. Had the young man searched from one end of the state to the other he would have found nothing that could have been so useful and pleased her so much as these two well thumbed books treating of the subject that lay nearest her heart.

Thanking him in her sincere way, as she accepted this token of his thoughtfulness, she said, “I shall never take a lesson from these books without remembering the giver, and I hope if some day we should meet again, I may prove to you the good use I have made of them.”

Some way her words “if we should meet again” seemed to send a pain through his heart. She had always interested him and on his annual trips to his father’s farm he had never failed to call upon her and had always enjoyed the visits.

On taking his leave, Mr. Wilson extended his hand to Alta and said, in his pleasant way, “I sincerely hope, and firmly believe, Miss Townsley, that you will be successful in your chosen profession, and will be rewarded for your hard application to study and diligent inquiry by being before many years a recognized authority upon the science of botany.”

“Should success crown my efforts, I shall always remember you as being the first to encourage me in my work, and for the interest you have shown in me, you shall always have my deepest gratitude and heartiest thanks.” Alta spoke earnestly, looking straight into the eyes of her companion, and he returning the look, stood for a moment lost in admiration of the pure soul, the inner life, of a noble woman which shone out through those dark blue orbs. “She will succeed in anything she undertakes,” he thought as he turned away.

After traveling for three or four weeks, by vehicle, in a southwesterly direction, Mr. Townsley decided that as the season for planting was advancing, he would stop, rent a few acres and remain in the Ozark Mountains until the following autumn, when he should resume his journey to Texas, this state with its rich soil and miles of unclaimed land having always been his mecca.

The novelty of the situation was pleasing to Alta, who enjoyed the beautiful scenery, and was delighted to hear her father say he would spend the summer there.

No hills surpass in beauty those of the Ozark range, and the rugged grandeur of this picturesque chain was a never ending source of pleasure to the young girl, who saw that here she would have a new field in which to pursue her studies.

Their new home was like all others in that part of the country, a cabin sixteen by eighteen feet, built of unhewn logs, notched at the corners to make them lie closer together. The spaces between called chinks by the natives, were filled with clay to keep out the cold, while the roof was made

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of clapboards, as were also the doors. Windows there were none, as the mountaineer had never discovered the need of them; therefore, the doors of these rude cabins were constantly swung open to admit the light.

Perhaps the reason that artists and poets have given so little of their time and talent to these immense uplifts, called by the red men, Ozarks, is due to the fact of the great inconvenience of reaching any of the centrally located spots.

Occasionally, however, an artist finds his way into the heart of the range and is well repaid for his trouble.

The first person to meet the Townsleys was a young landscape painter from St. Louis, whose name was Arthur McLenden. While few from the outside world have intruded in this quiet retreat of the mountaineer, he has made still less effort to communicate with the world at large. These people have lived there, buried from civilization, for generations. The old men told most thrilling tales of fox hunting, bear trapping and panther chasing, which their grandfathers and great-grandfathers had gloried in.

Hunting was still the midsummer pastime of the native, and after his few acres of cotton, and fewer of corn were laid by and a little patch of potatoes was planted and left to nature to raise, the drowsy oxen were turned out to graze on the hillside at their leisure, and the clumsy home manufactured plow was left in the fence corner to rust and decay, the farmer deeming it easier to construct another on the same plan, than care for the one he had, through the winter. These plows were made by cutting down a tree, and after making it the proper length, two holes were bored near one end into which to insert the handles, which nature always kindly provided either in curved limbs or bent grape-vines. A smaller tree or branch was used for the upright, and by screwing the rusty share to this the work was done, and a farming implement was completed which would help him through the season's work. Then the mountaineer may take his gun from the antlers above his cabin door, and go forth to his one diversion, the only pastime known to him, that of proving his lordship over creation by hunting to its lair the wild beasts of the forest, or entrapping the timid deer by a generous supply of salt, sprinkled near their haunts. As he has never seen the use of education, the mountaineer, to use his expression, u is going to waste no time over book learning.” Therefore the Townsleys found themselves located among a people crude in the extreme, and a 8 Alta expressed it, “only one degree removed from heathendom.”

The church in which these illiterate people worship is built as their dwellings. The immense fireplace, made of sticks plastered together with mud, and lined with the same material, is always an addition to both dwelling and church. The seats in these houses of worship are logs split into halves, smoothed somewhat and the ends laid on large stones brought in from the hillside. The pulpit is simply a space in one side of the room, and the bible-rest is a home-made chair, which has to also accommodate the minister. If from among the inhabitants, some man thinks

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he has been called to preach the gospel and is able to explain to his listeners in a lingual, which none but they can understand, how they should live if they hope to enter a better world, he is looked up to as far superior to common people, although he stands before them dressed in his homespun jeans, coarse shirt and heavy brogans. While his education is limited, he can read some, but it is with great difficulty that he studies out a few texts to use as foundations for his sermons.

The artist, Mr. McLenden, soon became a weekly visitor at the Townsley home. Having no other associates he appreciated the privilege of having some one of intelligence to talk to, and liked the family Ignoring the question of their social standing, which would have meant so much in his city home, he was now frequently accepting their hospitality. While if for a moment he allowed the thought of their different positions in life to enter his head, he immediately reproached himself for it, and felt that he had done the family an injustice by thinking them beneath him, simply because they had not as much money as he, and he invariably finished by saying, “Alta Townsley has as much common sense as any girl of my acquaintance, it matters not what position she may hold in society.”

Soon after settling in the mountains, Alta discovered a small ravine enclosed by a fringe of low trees, and carpeted with grass, kept green by the dampness from a spring which bubbled up in one corner, starting a small stream that ran down the slope, dividing off a portion of the glen in which grew a gnarled cedar, that had by some obstruction in its youth been forced to bend its trunk just above the ground, and this bend made a comfortable seat.

This shady retreat Alta used from the first as her sanctum, and to it she resorted when wishing to be alone, and there she went to offer up her prayers and sing her songs of praise. Her simple faith in her Savior led her to think of dedicating this pretty vale to a religious use, believing as firmly that this consecration was acceptable to the Lord as she believed in His divine presence when she called upon Him in prayer. This spot, which a few months afterwards was the one wherein she pronounced the most solemn vows of her life, Alta called the Cathedral and the christening she conducted in her own peculiar way. When the wild grapes which grew in abundance over the hills were ripe she gathered a quantity and pressing the juice from them made a cup of wine, this she took to the Cathedral and after offering up a prayer, asking her Lord to aid her in her effort to keep the glen a holy place she sprinkled the wine over the grass, saying as she did so, “To Thee, 0 Lord, do I dedicate this small corner of the earth,” then vowing to keep the place sacred, she closed by singing an appropriate hymn.

After this, Alta never approached the little glen without a feeling of awe, nor could she ever quite make up her mind to let others know of this, to her, sacred place, lest they profane it by using it for a pleasure ground, knowing that they would not understand her sentiment toward it, although afterwards she made an exception to this, when Herbert told her of his intention to study for the ministry.

Taking him to the Cathedral she told him of the consecration and gave him the privilege of using it as a place of study and prayer.

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Chapter IV

Autumn in the Ozarks was the season both Alta and Mr. McLenden enjoyed most. The scenery was beautiful, and the mountains wreathed in purple haze, the yellowish-brown of the grain, intermingled with the green and white of the cotton fields, and the sparkling brook which tumbled over the stones on its way down the valley, made many interesting subjects for the enthusiastic artist.

Mr. McLenden had not known Mr. Townsley’s family long until he felt as much at home near their cabin hearth as in the log house where he kept bachelor’s hall.

Each week there was a decrease in the number of his drawings, and one day when attempting to sketch a great bowlder and its reflection in a pool, near which grew a bunch of marshmallow, he found it necessary to erase it several times. Then still not satisfied with it he impatiently exclaimed, “I do not understand myself of late. It seems impossible for me to keep my mind on my work enough to do it well. I am afraid I am losing interest in my art, and what would Alta think of me, should she find it out.

“Here I am inclined to think is where the trou-

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ble lies. I am spending too much of my time with Miss Townsley and I must stay away from there, or instead of going every day, shall call on her only once a week.”

Looking up from his work the young artist saw the sun was sinking behind Mount Wahoo, the highest point of the range.

“I shall be late getting home,” he said, folding his easel and sketching stool. “I am afraid I have wasted this afternoon, by giving more time to the wild-flowers than I have to the more prominent objects in my sketch.” An excuse which he knew was not true, and picking up his outfit, he again said, “I must manage to keep my thoughts away from Miss Townley and concentrate them on my work.”

But how long did this resolve not to see Alta last? Only just till he reached the point where the road divided, one branch leading to his own cabin, the other toward the Townsley home. This last one, after a moment’s hesitation, was the one he chose. Arriving there he saw Alta in the yard and went directly to her.

The object of his thoughts was looking unusually attractive in her simple lawn dress with a bunch of wild flowers at her waist. Just then she was busily engaged placing some ferns in the damp earth near a spring.