granting unto her opportunities for learning that well might cause proud
Athens to touch her crown to see that it was still there and had not
been lifted by her modern rival.

A murky river runs through Almaville and a dark stream flows through the
lives of all of us who dwell upon its banks. But yonder! yonder! is the
ocean! Where?

THE AUTHOR.

THE HINDERED HAND.

CHAPTER I.

_Occurrences That Puzzle._

To the pagan yet remaining in man it would seem that yon railroad train
plunging toward the Southland is somehow conscious of the fact that it
is playing a part in events of tremendous import, for observe how it
pierces the darkness with its one wild eye, cleaves the air with its
steely front and causes wars and thunders to creep into the dreams of
the people by whose homes it makes its midnight rush.

Well, this train now moving toward Almaville, queen city of the South,
measured by the results that developed from that night's journey, is
fully entitled to all its fretting and fuming, brag and bluster of steam
and smoke, and to its wearisome jangle of clanging bell and shrieking
whistle and rumbling wheel.

It was summer time. A Negro porter passing through a coach set apart for
white passengers noted the fixedness with which a young woman with a
pretty face and a pair of beautiful blue eyes was regarding him. Her
head was inclined to one side, her hand so supporting her face that a
prettily shaped ear peeped out from between her fingers. In the look of
her eye there was a slight suggestion of immaturity, which, however, was
contradicted by the firm outlines of her face. As the porter drew near
her seat she significantly directed her look to a certain spot on the
car floor, thence to the eyes of the porter.

Having in mind the well understood dictum of the white man of the South
that the Negro man and the white woman are to be utterly oblivious of
the existence of each other, this Negro porter was loth to believe that
the young woman was trying surreptitiously to attract his attention, and
he passed out of the coach hurriedly. In a short while he returned and
again noted how intently the young woman regarded him. This time he
observed that she had evidently been weeping and that there was a look
of hopeless sorrow in her eyes. Again the young woman looked at him,
then upon the floor and up at him once more. The porter looked down upon