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Updated: April 30, 2025
With the general public it was for the time overshadowed by the success of a more ambitious effort, Richter's first novel, The Invisible Lodge. This fanciful tale of an idealized freemasonry is a study of the effects in after life of a secluded education.
On the Monday morning, when Stephen went wearily to the office, he was met by Richter at the top of the stairs, who seized his shoulders and looked into his face. The light of the zealot was on Richter's own. "We shall drill every night now, my friend, until further orders. It is the Leader's word. Until we go to the front, Stephen, to put down rebellion."
Whipple's handwriting when the creak of a door shattered his nerves completely. He glanced up from his work to behold none other than Colonel Comyn Carvel. Glancing at Mr. Richter's chair, and seeing it empty, the Colonel's eye roved about the room until it found Stephen.
He felt a little as the brother Vult in Richter's exquisite and forgotten novel might have felt when he was sounding on his flute that final morning, and going out on his cold way never to see his brother again. The brother Walt heard the soft, sweet notes, and smiled tranquilly, believing that his brother was merely going on a kindly errand to help him, Walt, to happiness.
'Yea, this is life; make this forenoon sublime, This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, And time is conquered, and thy crown is won." For some seconds Salome did not speak, for the shadow on his countenance fell upon her heart, and looking reverently up at him, she thought of Richter's mournful dictum, "Great souls attract sorrows, as mountains tempests." "Dr.
VII. An Excursion VIII. The Colonel is Warned IX. Signs of the Times X. Richter's Scar, XI. How a Prince Came XII. Into Which a Potentate Comes XIII. At Mr. Brinsmade's Gate XIV. The Breach becomes Too Wide XV. Mutterings XVI. The Guns of Sumter XVII. Camp Jackson XVIII. The Stone that is Rejected XIX. The Tenth of May.
Whipple's handwriting when the creak of a door shattered his nerves completely. He glanced up from his work to behold none other than Colonel Comyn Carvel. Glancing at Mr. Richter's chair, and seeing it empty, the Colonel's eye roved about the room until it found Stephen.
Pantaleone, who had already succeeded in obliterating himself behind a bush, so as not to see the offending officer at all, at first made out nothing at all of Herr von Richter's speech, especially, as it had been delivered through the nose, but all of a sudden he started, stepped hurriedly forward, and convulsively thumping at his chest, in a hoarse voice wailed out in his mixed jargon: 'A la la la ... Che bestialita!
Stephen looked around him: at the dusty books on the shelves, and the still dustier books heaped on Mr. Richter's big table; at the cuspidors; at the engravings of Washington and Webster; at the window in the jog which looked out on the court-house square; and finally at another ground-glass door on which was printed: SILAS WHIPPLE
He carried in his hand a wreath of white roses the first of many to be laid on Richter's grave. Poor Richter! How sad his life had been! And yet he had not filled it with sadness. For many a month, and many a year, Stephen could not look upon his empty place without a pang. He missed the cheery songs and the earnest presence even more than he had thought.
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