"The quest,"

Front matter

FT MEADE

GenCol 1

Class.

Preface

The following pages are based on incontrovertible facts, and are geographically and ethnologically correct. While traveling through that part of South America which is drained by the Amazon and the Orinoco, one is impressed with the fact that the most of the maps of that region are incorrect and based on conjecture. The fauna and flora have never been studied, and to the naturalist there is here a wealth of material for study and investigation.

Chapter I. Doctor Williams And Family

“Is the doctor in?” came in trembling tones from the lips of a small fair man, dressed in the garb of a fisherman, one stormy evening in the month of September, 18 — . The question was addressed to a young woman, with coal black hair and eyes. Her lips were thin and, when slightly parted, showed an even set of well-preserved teeth. The mouth had about it a look of determination, which boded good or ill as the case might be. The forehead was high, broad and well rounded, the nose strongly formed, and not out of proportion to the face.

She was standing in the doorway of a snug frame cottage, which stood on a slight eminence, about two hundred feet back from the road, which skirted the shore of a small land-locked cove, on the coast of Maine.

The place had an appearance of prosperity and neatness. The closely-cut lawn was dotted with shrubbery and late autumn flowers. The hawthorn hedge was neatly trimmed, and everything went to show that they who lived there were, in taste and refinement, above those who lived in the many other houses, which could be seen on both sides of the cove.

The answer to the opening question was somewhat startling in its sharpness and asperity. “No, the doctor is not in, and when he does come in, he won’t go out again to-night.”

“But, my little girl is so sick, and Doctor Williams told me that if she were no better, to come this evening and let him know, and he would come down,” said the poor man, and the agony in his voice was sufficient evidence of his earnestness and concern, for the little one who lay so sick, the only one left of five, the others having been taken one by one during the past thirty days, by that dread disease of childhood, diphtheria.

This reply did not seem to soften the heart of the woman, for she said : “The doctor has exposed his family to the danger too much already, and I can tell you now he is not going.”

The man, whose name was Stafford, started for home with a heavy heart, uttering a prayer that the life of their only remaining child, little golden-haired Bess, might be spared.

A short time after this the doctor drove up the gravel walk, and giving his horse to a servant who came forward, ran into the house, and in a voice filled with weariness, asked his wife if there were any calls.

His wife, the young woman who had spoken to Stafford, said: “No, there are no calls, and if there were, you would not get them. It is a pity you can’t stay home with your family evenings.” The “family” meaning herself, her mother and sister.

“Well, Mary,” said the doctor, “you know that the sick must be cared for, and this is my life work, chosen after careful deliberation, and chosen because I believed that I could do more good in it than in any other way. This life is not what we make it for ourselves, but what we make it for others, and if all would think and act so, what a blessed place this old earth would be. If others ii do not do as they ought, it will not excuse us if we neglect what we know is our duty.”

“You are always talking of duty,” replied his wife; “as if exposing your family to contagious disease was a duty.”

Doctor Williams said no more, but passed into a small room, which he called his surgery, and where he kept drugs, books and instruments; and carefully closing the door, wearily seated himself in a large leather-covered armchair, and gave way to a burst of anguish. “O Almighty God, why are we Thy creatures, created in Thy image, so afflicted in mind and body? From infancy to dotage, from the cradle to the grave, we are constantly harrassed with pain or discomfort. If this were all, and everything ended with death, none but fools would allow themselves to live past the first years of discretion; the whole earth would be one suicide’s club, and the dead awaiting burial would outnumber the living. But there is something after this life which will more than repay us for all our sufferings here. It is not ‘the fear of something after death,’ but the hope of what is beyond the grave which should stimulate our reason and make us, ‘bear those ills we have.’ How wisely are we dealt with by the All-Wise Ruler. I have seen many die, and yet I have never seen one die who was afraid of the ‘grim monster.’ Physiologists and pathologists tell us that this is because of the formation in the body of certain toxines or poisons, which partake of the nature of alkaloidal poisons. What a wonderful provision of nature, to be thus rendered insensible in a measure to the great but narrow chasm which separates a life of pain and distress, of poverty and disappointment, a life where everything is seen imperfectly, where defects are always in the foreground, and where the shadow is greater than the substance, from a life where perfection is stamped on everything, with the indellible purity of the love of a universal creator, where we will not need a high-power microscope to see the beauties of those we love, nor an oil-immersion lens to discover the good qualities of those whom we have considered enemies.”

At this moment the door opened and a face appeared, which said: “Supper’s ready.” This face was that of a woman of thirty years of age, and one into which a person could not gaze with any degree of pleasure. The eyes, which were small, black and beadlike, were deeply set so close together that you could easily fancy that they had in the past been one, but by some surgeon’s skill the one had been converted into two, thus destroying a living proof of the truth of the writings of mythologists. The nose was prominent, narrow and extremely sharp. The septum, or partition between the nostrils, had the appearance of having grown downward after the process of growth had ceased on either side. The mouth was small and so devoid of what is called “cupid’s bow” that surely here was another evidence of the surgeon’s art. The chin was prominent and seemed to have a strong desire to resist the downward development of the nasal septum. The complexion indicated a neglected stomach and a disordered liver. The teeth were yellow, uneven and decayed. The voice was harsh, penetrating, and grated unpleasantly on any ear it reached. Such was the sister of Mrs. Williams, Miss Julia Beerbour. She was two years the doctor’s senior, and, unlike most of her sex, was proud of her age, which she gave as a reason for knowing more than any one who was unfortunate enough to have been born at a subsequent date to that on which she had made her debut on the stage of mundane existence.

After having made her announcement with the air of one who has accomplished a difficult and disagreeable task, she led the way into the dining-room, followed by the doctor. Mrs. Williams and her mother were already seated, and after the doctor and his sister-in-law — or Miss Julia, as we shall call her — had taken their places* the doctor said: “Mary, I have just received from Boston a small bottle of liquid which is said to be almost, if not quite, a specific for this terrible diphtheria, and after supper I am going down to Stafford’s to administer some to his little girl. Their hearts are broken, and I can see no hope for the little one.”

“If you are determined to go,” said Mrs. Williams, “I’ll tell you now that Stafford was here just before you came home, and wanted you to come. I told him that you had already exposed your own family too much.”

“Oh, Mary, I wish you had not said that,” said the doctor. “Poor Stafford and his wife are completely crushed with grief and anxiety.”

“What is this new medicine?” asked Miss Julia, in an imperious tone.

“It is a serum taken from a horse that has been rendered immune,” said the doctor.

“Well,” said Miss Julia sharply, “some more of your dosing with medicine. If people only had sense enough to - leave doctors alone and think less of themselves, there would be less of this talk about sickness which exists only in the ; mind.”

“But, Julia*” said the: doctor, “diphtheria, is in the throat, and not the mind; and, furthermore, little. Bess Stafford is too young to have contracted the disease through fear, as you would have us believe;”

“Yes, but the parent’s fear is sufficient,” said Miss Julia.

“Now, Miss Julia,” said the doctor, “you state an absurdity, and, of course, argument ceases. It is in the same line with your doctrine that there is nothing material. You further say, ‘mind is everything/ ‘mind is God' ; therefore everything is God. Consequently we are God. This is pantheism, or worse ; it is blasphemy. This is the crime which cursed the earth, or rather, but for this crime on the part of an angel high in favor, this earth would never have been cursed. This angel who made himself equal with God was debased for his presumption, and hence the existence of ‘his Satanic Majesty.’ I conclude, then, that ‘auld Nickie ben,’ as Burns familiarly calls the king of darkness, was the first of this cult to which you profess allegiance, and he, like you, preached this soul-destroying doctrine on every occasion. When he went to our first parents in the Garden of Eden and said, ‘Thou shalt not surely die/ when the Almighty Father had already said, ‘Thou shalt/ he was stating what these ‘disciples of error’ are now trying to instill into the minds of the sick and suffering all over this broad land of ours. There will come a time when there shall be no more sickness or death, but only after this natural body shall have put on immortality, when that which was sown in corruption shall be raised in glory; and the more we are prepared for this great change here, the more capable will we be of enjoying it, when it shall open to our view on the everlasting mom/'

The doctor, having finished his evening meal, went into the surgery, got his medicine case in which he carried a surgical set, and prepared to go out.

Going up to his wife, he said: “Mary, I am going to try and save little Bess Stafford’s life.”

“Would it not be better,” replied his wife, ' “for the child to die than to grow up and live a life of toil and poverty as her mother has done?”

“Oh, Mary,” said the doctor, “do not talk so. I wish you would help me in my work. I have so many discouragements, because of the comparatively narrow limits of medical knowledge, because of the ignorance, frequently of those attending in the capacity of nurses, and then this terrible evil which has lately come among us, under the guise of science and Christianity, and with which Julia seems to be infatuated. This is doing more harm than disease. It prevents many times my being called until too late. Only yesterday Sam Robinson, who cut his leg so badly while chopping wood, could easily have been saved, but the Scientists ( ?) took charge of him, and allowed the poor boy to bleed to death. Many lives which are now sacrificed could be saved if I had a hospital at hand. And then I must confess that the ingratitude of those for whom I have done much is a burden to me which is well nigh unbearable. If you could only interest yourself in my work it would be a great encouragement to me, besides a source of happiness to you.”

“You know how I feel about this matter,” said his wife, “so you are only wasting your time in talking. Go on down to Stafford’s, and if we get diphtheria, you will have yourself to blame.”

Chapter II

a night's work and a morning murder.

The doctor passed out into the darkness, and on arriving at Stafford’s found the little one still alive, but verylow. He at once prepared and administered a dose of the remedy, repeating it in two hours. Before time for a third dose there was a marked change in the child’s condition. Her respirations, which had been rapid and strident, were now slower and almost noiseless. The pulse had fallen from 160 to 120, the temperature from 104 to 101, and the doctor felt that he would like to give vent to his feelings as did Doctor McClure.

He remained with the anxious parents until two o’clock in the morning, when a man named Russell came for him.

Russell lived far up on the east side of the cove,, a distance of about two miles from Stafford’s. When the doctor arrived at Russell’s he found that his services were greatly needed. A new life had come into the home, and the young mother lay in the agony of a terrible convulsion.

Here was need for calmness and quickness. After two hours of work and anxiety, which none can appreciate but him whose soul has been tried, Mrs. Russell was pronounced out of immediate danger.

Before starting for home the doctor learned that Enos Holmes, a miserly old bachelor, who lived alone in a hut about half a mile back in the woods from Doctor Williams, held a mortgage on Russell’s home, and intended turning Russell and his wife out in the morning.

When the doctor, on his way home, reached the road which led to Holmes , ) he decided to see this ‘‘money shark” and intercede for Russell, owing to the serious condition of Russell’s wife.

During this lonely walk, the doctor’s thoughts wandered back to the time when he had gone to teach school in a small settlement among the Cumberland mountains in Kentucky, and how, in his lack of knowledge of the customs and manners of these ignorant but would-be aristocratic denizens of the mountains, he had been led into marriage with the daughter of those with whom he boarded, because he had persuaded her to attend with him a meeting in the schoolhouse when an itinerant Methodist preacher had happened to “invade the glen.” He had sent her to private school, where she had outdone all her classmates in their studies, but she held aloof from the others and made no friends.

When the doctor had finished his medical course he brought his wife and began practice in this secluded spot, where all were strangers to both of them. They had few tastes in common. Her mother and sister, who were densely ignorant, she insisted on having with her, and the doctor, anxious to do everything that would contribute to her happiness, submitted with apparent pleasure. He was thankful that no little ones had come into their home, especially as his wife boasted that “all the brats in the neighborhood” were, afraid of her.

He could not now persuade her to attend church, or any social gathering, and if visitors came to the house she would refuse to put in an appearance.

It was while thinking of this past life that the doctor arrived at Holmes’ door, a little before daylight. He stood there considering as to whether to arouse the old miser, or await his voluntary arising, for he was said to be up and out by daybreak.

i8

While thus standing undecided, he became suddenly unconscious and fell to the earth with a groan.

That morning, on arising, Mrs. Williams found that the doctor had not returned; but supposing that he was still at Stafford’s or Russell’s, paid little attention to his absence.

About ten o’clock in the forenoon a man presented himself at the door of the doctor’s residence, and asked if the doctor were in. He was told that the doctor had gone “last evening” to Stafford’s and had not yet returned. The man appeared incredulous, and asked Mrs. Williams if she were sure that the doctor had not returned.

“Don’t you suppose,” replied Mrs. Williams, “that I would know if the doctor had returned? I did not want him to go, because of exposing us to diphtheria, but he would go, and now I suppose he is waiting until the child dies.”

When she had finished speaking Mrs. Williams noticed an officer’s badge on the coat of the stranger, and she asked sharply: “What do you want of the doctor?”

The officer, for such he was, hesitated a moment and then said: “Mrs. Williams, Enos Holmes was murdered this morning, and this knife” — taking from his pocket a surgeon’s small amputating knife — “was found piercing the heart of the murdered man. Besides this, a blank prescription book, with Doctor Williams’ name printed on each leaf, was found just outside the door of Holmes’ house. It is known that only a few days ago the doctor had quite a scene with old Enos, about his dealing so harshly with some poor person in the village, and if the doctor has not returned it looks badly for you.”

Mrs. Williams had stood motionless while the officer was speaking, and without changing countenance she said : “I suppose, then, that the doctor will not come back for a time, until the matter quiets down ; but I don’t think that old Enos Holmes had any relatives, or even friends, around these parts, so the doctor need not be afraid of any trouble because he killed the old miser.”

“But my duty,” replied the officer, “is to arrest the doctor and lodge him in jail, at least on suspicion, and I must say that the circumstantial evidence against him is very strong.”

The officer then went down to Stafford’s, and after learning from them of the doctor’s having started for Russell’s about two o’clock, he told them the story of the murder. He then went to Russell’s, but could only learn that the doctor had been there and left presumably for home, a little before daylight.

Here was a mystery. Doctor Williams had lived here for five years and was beloved by nearly everyone in the cove. His services were never withheld when needed, and when the news of the murder, with the suspicions against Doctor Williams, became known, there were few in the settlement who believed that he was the criminal, except Mrs. Williams and her sister, and to them it did not seem so very horrible. A diligent search was made that day for the doctor, but no trace of him could be found. He had disappeared from human view as mysteriously and as completely as if the earth had swallowed him up. The body of Enos Holmes was buried in his own garden, with none to shed a tear, but many to hurl imprecations at the memory of him, whom they all detested, and whom they blamed for depriving them, even in his death, of one whom they all loved and believed to be innocent, notwithstanding the fact that the coroner’s jury had presented a verdict at the inquest which named Doctor Williams as the murderer.

After talking to the officer at the door, Mrs. Williams went in and called her mother and Julia and told them what she had just heard.

“Well,” said Julia, “it does not surprise me. These doctors see so much of other people’s troubles that they get hardened, and I believe that they kill lots of people with their medicines as well as their fears. We will always have such things happening until this Science that 1 have learned becomes universal, when everyone will realize that nothing material exists, and what is called animal and vegetable life is seen to be a self-evident falsehood. All that we call sin, sickness and death is a matter of belief. Matter is an error of statement, for there is no matter. Nothing we can say or believe of matter is true. If the doctor is gone for good from here, it, I am sure, will be a good thing, for does not this book” — holding up a small cloth-bound volume — “say, physiology, obeying to the letter, that so-called laws of health has neither diminished sickness or increased longevity. Diseases have multiplied and become more obstinate, their chronic forms more frequent, the acute more fatal and death more sudden since our man-made theories have taken the place of primitive truth.”

“Now, Julia,” said Mrs. Williams, “it is about time you stopped talking this foolishness of yours. What made you scream when the window fell on your finger? Why did you groan when the dentist in Boston was filling your tooth? Why do you put on heavy clothing when the weather is cold, and why do you use a fan when the room is too hot? The fact is I do believe that the doctor did kill that old Holmes, and the only thing I regret about it is that we are living up here in the North, where they make so much fuss about such matters. If we were down in Kentucky, no one would trouble themselves about it, unless there were some relatives, which there does not seem to be in this case. I’m going back as soon as I can get ready.”

‘Tm going, too,” said Julia.

“Daughters,” said their mother, “my heart is heavy with grief to hear you talk so about James, when you know not if he did the killing. He was not the man who would be likely to do such a thing without cause, and there does not seem to be any cause. Don’t do anything rash, and do not be in a hurry to believe everything you hear. James may come back soon and explain everything, and let us not talk any more about it until we know more. And you, Julia ; I am put about to hear you talk in that manner. Have you forgotten when you had lung fever how James waited on you, and when we all expected you to die, he never left you and pulled you through?”

“Yes, and after I got about again,” said Julia, “I found that just at that time I was receiving absent treatment from Mrs. Barnes, up in Portland, and it was her treatment that cured me.”

“Mary,” said the mother, “would it not be best to send word to Lawyer Moore, up in Boston, who was a great friend of James’, and I am sure he would come and advise you what is best to be done. You could send Sam

down to Y , and send a telegram from there and so

save time.”

Mrs. Williams at once saw the wisdom of her mother’s suggestion, and hastily writing the following dispatch :

Street, Boston.

“Come at once to Doctor James Williams.”

She called the servant man Sam, and told him to take it to the telegraph office at Y as quickly as possible.

That evening about eight o’clock Mr. Moore arrived from Boston, and was very much surprised and pained to hear of what had happened. He at once said : “Doctor Williams did not commit that murder. Robbery has been the motive, and anyone knowing the doctor as I do knows that he is incapable of doing such a deed. I will find the man who did it and clear the name of my dearest friend/'

Judge Moore was a man of medium build, dark blue eyes and black hair and mustache, upon the latter of which time had placed its bleaching hand. He advised Mrs. Williams to make no plans for the future, at least just now, but to go on as if the doctor had gone away for a visit, and in the meantime, said he: “I will make every effort to discover the doctor's whereabouts, for I am convinced that there has been foul play, and the doctor is only kept away for the present to enable the guilty party to escape"; but admitting to himself that the doctor was very likely killed and his body disposed of.

Chapter III. A Mystery And A Sermon

Mr. Moore had in his early years done some very clever detective work, in connection with a robbery of a bank in Boston, and was the means of bringing the thieves to justice, and he now decided that he would bring his talents in this direction into service again for the sake of his friend.

The following morning being Sunday, the Rev. Thomas McGregor stood up in the pulpit of the Presbyterian church, the only one in the cove, and looking into the faces of those before him, said:

“My address this morning will be from the words of Abraham, found in the twenty-fifth verse, of the eighteenth chapter of Genesis. ‘That be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked, and that the righteous should be as the wicked, that be far from thee. Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?’ This book, from which I obtain these words, has been placed in the hands of the children of men, as their rule of faith and for their guidance. It meets the requirements of every member of the human race, whether it be for judgment on the unrepentant sinner or for the ‘well done’ to repentant and faithful followers of the meek and lowly Teacher. It contains all the instructions necessary to enable us to live a life that is Christlike in its simplicity, aims and accomplishments. It tells us of our origin and the objects for which we were created. It draws us with the cords of love and encouragement to tread the straight and narrow path 23 which leads to a satisfactory life here and a glorious resurrection hereafter. It restrains us from evil, by the plentiful judgments which are pronounced against those ‘who fear not God’ and who do not ‘obey his commandments.’ It contains instruction for the saint and the sinner, for the rich and the poor, for the educated and the ignorant, for the emperor and the artisan, the president and the populace. It is as suitable for the people of to-day as it was for those who lived during the reign of the Caesars, and its promises will be as sweet and appropriate to succeeding generations as they were to the sweet singer of Israel when he said, ‘O sing unto the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things ; his right hand and his holy arm hath gotten him the victory. The Lord hath made known his salvation ; his righteousness hath he openly showed in the sight of the heathen.’

“To-day our hearts are filled with grief and consternation because of the terrible calamity which has befallen this people. A man has been found murdered, and circumstantial evidence points out as the murderer one whom we have loved, and in our hours of pain and sickness we have longed to see. It is not for us to judge even if everything were proven. There are many things which would go to disprove the theories of those who have sat in judgment. Can you, my friends, believe that a man whose soul was illuminated and beautified by the smile of approval from the face of the Almighty, who seeing the heroic and self-sacrificing work of this humble follower of the ‘Great Physician,’ must have pronounced a ‘well done’ on his work that night, two lives saved; can you believe that he could hurl the soul of a fellow mortal, all unprepared, into the presence of the ‘Judge of all the earth ?’ I tell you no, a thousand times no. There will come a time when this mystery will be made clear, ‘God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.’

It is for the purpose of comforting your hearts to-day that I have chosen this text.

We will first notice that God’s judgments are righteous, ‘shall not the judge of all the earth do right?’ He knows our every weakness, he understands all our motives. He does not see as man sees, nor will he judge as man judges. Everything is ‘open to the eyes of him with whom we have to do.’ He is our father and we are his children. What a comfort to think that we are not to be judged by one who would possibly allow some personal feeling to enter into the judgment, and how difficult for any man whose passions are human and whose feelings are liable to be stirred by the eloquent appeal of some brilliant legal talent which has been hired for gold to render an impartial judgment.

“Since the time when the edict went forth, ‘the soul that sinneth it shall die,’ up to the present, God has been visiting the works of his creation with judgments. There must be something in these judgments for our good, for he doeth all things well, and he who gave his ‘only begotten Son’ to save us from the judgment which would say ‘depart from me into everlasting punishment’ intends that these present judgments shall be made a means of bringing us closer to him. They teach us humiliation, ‘and when Rehoboam humbled himself, the wrath of the Lord was turned from him that he would not destroy him altogether.’ Here we have an instance of humility saving for the time from the righteous judgments of God.