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VOLUME XXIX, NUMBER 6.1
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From [he Nett- York Tribune
Two.
High on the hilts Lord Heron he dwells;
Rosalind binge on the MOON below,
Watching the bees on the heather bells,
Merrily swinging . to and fro
Yeung, Lord Derail has left his state,
Donned a doublet of ho kletbgray,
Stolen out or the postern gate;
A silly shepherd to wander away.
Ronalila) keeps the heart of to child.
tieatle. and . tecaleei and pare in she;
Cohn the diepheid. in comely and mild,
Tenting his flack by valley or lea.
Never n swain 11:114 ‘vhkpered before
N\ bat she 6. ;a-, at the eoze of day;
'•Ito:e of ro.e. I love thee, mnre—
••\lore than the sweetest words ran say:
'Though I seem but a 4hepliettl
• Dow. Gout n stately race I COMIC;
"In ....ilk, and sevrels I'll hare thee clad,
...Mal Lady of Iberott be thy name."
blu,lted a rosy red,
Turned as white as the hawthorn's blow,
Folded her ktrtle over her head,
And sped away hke a chortled sloe.
'Rose of rotes, come back to met
••Leave me never!" Lord Heron cried,
'Never!" echoed from 101 l and lea;
`•Never[" the lonely cliffs replied.
Loud he 11101Iniell 0 year and a day,
flirt Lady Alice wu, fair to arc;
The laugh:sun ble..es their bridal day,
And the ca.l!e bells ring merrily.
.o,er the moorslike n rolline. knell
Roimhnd hear; them .lowly peal,
llow she mourns—il loved him well,
"Better I loved Ills mortal weal.
91e.1, Lord I feron, in .Vices nnn~:
She ii a holy of high degree;
"RoFalintl had hut her pea , ant ehrarms;
••Ye had rued the day ) c wedded lac!"
Lord Ileron he dwells in the ensile high,
Roinlind sleep- on the moor 1100,V;
le loved to live, no.d she loved to die;
Which loved true,t the angels know.
gdEttitrits.
The Second Marriage
DT WARREN 'WARNER. EQ , OF TIM INNER NUN
A busy day in the assize court, at Ches
ter, checkered, as usual, by alternate victory
rand defeat, had just terminated, and I was
walking briskly forth, when an attorney of
rather low caste in his profession—being
principally employed as an intermediary
between needy felons and the counsels prac
ticing in the Crown court—accosted me, and
presented a brief; at the same tendering a
fee of two guineas marked upon it.
"I ant engaged to morrow, Mr. Barnes;"
I exclaimed, a little testily, "on the civil
side, besides, you know I very seldom take
briefs in the Crown court, even if proffered
ha due time, and to-morrow will be the last
day of the assize in Chester. There are
plenty of unemployed counsel who will be
glad of your brief."
"It is a brief in an action of ejectment,"
replied the attorney—"Woodly vs. Thorn
dyke, and is brought to recover possession
of a freehold estate now held and framed by
the defendant."
"An action of ejectment to recover pos
session of a freehold estate; defended, too, I
know, by a powerful bar, for I was offered
,n brief and declined it. Mr.
and you briog me this for the plaintiff, and
at the last moment, too! You must be
crazed."
"I told the plaintiff and her grandfather,"
rejoined Mr. Barnes, ''that it was too late
to bespeak counsel's attention to the case,
and that the fee, all they have, with much
difficulty, been able to raise, was ridicu
lously small, but they insisted on my apply
/ipg yoti—Oh, hero they are."
~ `Pe had by this time reached the street,
r and• the attorney pointed to two figures
standing in attitudes of anxious suspense
near the gateway. It was dusk, but there
VAS quite sufficient light to distinguish the
pale and interesting features of a young fe
male, dressed in faded and scanty mourning.
and accompanied by a respectable looking
old man with white hair, and a countenance
deeply furrowed by age and grief.
"I told you, Miss Woodley," said the at
torney, "that this gentleman would decline
the brief, especially with such a fee."
"It is not the fee, man," I observed, "for
I was somewhat moved by the appealing de
jection exhibited by the white-haired man
and his timid grand-daughter, "but what
chance can I have of establishing this per
son's right-4f right she have—to the estate
she claims, thus suddenly called upon to act
- without previous consultation, and utterly
ignorant, except as far as this I perceive
hastily scrawled brief will instruct me, both
of the nature of the plaintiff's claim and of
the defense intended to be set up against it?"
"If you would undertake it, sir," said the
young woman, with a tremulous, hesitating
voice and glistening eye, "for his sake"—
arid she glanced at her aged companion—
"who will else be helpless."
"The bles,ing of those who are ready to
perish will be yours, sir," said the grand
father, with meek solemnity, "if you will
lend your aid in this work of justice and
mercy. We have no hope of withstanding
the masterful violence and wrong of wicked
and powerful men except by the aid of the
law, which we have been taught will ever
prove a strong tower of defense to those who
walk in the paths of peace and right."
52 50
Ell
The earnestness of the old man's language
and manner, and the pleading gentleness of
the young woman, forcibly impressed me, and
albeit it wns a somewhat unprofessional mode
of business, I determined to hear their story
from their own lips, rather than take it from
the scrawled brief, or through the verbal
medium of their attorney.
"You have been truly taught," I an
swered, "and if really entitled to the pro
perty you claim, I know of no masterful
men that in this land of England can hinder
you from obtaining possession of it. Come
to my hotel in about an hour and a half
from hence, I shall then have leisure to hear
what you have to say. This fee," I added
taking the two guineas from the hand of the
attorney, who still held the money ready
for my acceptance, "you must permit me to
return. It is too much for you to pay for
losing your cause; and if I gain it—but
mind, I do not promise to take it into court
unless I ant thoroughly satisfied you have
right on your side—l shall expect a much
heavier one. Mr. Barnes, I will see you, if
you please, early iu the morning," I then
bowed, and hastened on.
Dinner was not ready when I arrived at
the hotel; and during the short time I had
to wait, I inure than half repented of having
had anything to do with this unfortunate
suit. However, the pleadings of charity,
the sugggestions of human kindness, re-as
serted their influence; and by the time my
new clients arrived, which they did. very
punctually at the hour I had indicated, I
bad quite regained the equanimity I had
momentarily lust, and thanks to mine host'ti
excellent viands and generous wine, was,
for a laii-yer, M a very amiable and benevo
lent humor indeed.
Our conference was long, anxious and un
satisfactory. I was obliged to send for
Barnes before it was concluded, in order to
thoroughly ascertain the precise nature of
the case intended to be set up by the de
fendant, and the evidence likely to be ad
doze(' in support of it. No ray of consola
tion or of hope came from that quarter.—
Still the narrative I had listened to, bearing
as it did the impress of truth and sincerity
in every sentence, strongly disposed me to
believe that foul play had been practiced by
the other side; and I determined at all haz
ards, to go into court, though with but faint
hope, indeed, of a present successful issue.
"It appears more than probable," I re
marked on dismissing my clients, "that this
will is a fabrication; but before such a ques
tion had been put in issue before a jury,
some producible evidence of its being so
should have been sought for and obtained.
As it is, I can only watch the defendant's
proof of the genuineness of the instrument
upon which he has obtained probate—one
or more of the attesting witnesses may, if
fraud has been practiced, break down under
a searching cross•cxamation, or incidentally,
perlutps, disclose matter for further investi
gation."
"One of the attesting witnesses is, as I
have already told you, dead," observed
Barnes: "and another, Elizabeth Wareing,
has, I hear, to day left the country. An
affidavit to that effect will, no doubt, be
made to-morrow, in order to enable them to
give secondary evidence of her attestation,
though, swear as they may, I have not the
slightest doubt I could find her if time were
allowed, and her presence would at all avail
A. N. II
EIS
"Indeed! This is very important. Would
you, Mr. Barnes, have any objection," I
added, after a few moments reflection, "to
make oath, should the turn of affairs tomor
row render your doing so desirable, of your
belief that you could, reasonable time being
allowed, procure the attendance of this
Elizabeth Wareing?"
"Not the slightest; though how that would
help us to invalidate the will Thorukyke
claims under, I do not understand."
"Perhaps not. At all events do not fail
to be early in court. The case is the first in
to-morrow's list, remember."
The story confided to me was very sad,
and unfortunately, in many of its features,
a very common one. Ellen, the only child
of the old gentleman, Thomas Woodley, had
early in life married Mr. James Woodley, a
wealthy yeoman, prosperously settled upon
his paternal acres, which he cultivated with
great diligence and success. The issue of
this marriage—a very happy ono, I was in
formed—was Mary IVoodley, the plaintiff in
the present action. Mr. Woodley, who bad
now been dead something more than two
years. bequeathed the whole of his property,
real and personal, to his wife, in full confi
dence, as he expressed himself but a few
hours before he expired, that she would am
ply provide for his and her child. The
value of the property inherited by Mrs.
Woodley under this will amounted, accord
ing to a valuation made a few week's after
the testator's decease, to be between eight
and nine thousand pounds.
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING?'
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 14, 185
Respected as a widow, comfortable in cir
cumstances, and with a daughter to engage
her affections, Mrs. Woodley might have
passed the remainder of his days in happi
ness. But how frequently do women peril
and lose all by a second marriage! Such
was the case with Mrs. W.: to the astonish
ment of everybody she threw herself away
on a man almost unknown in the district—
a person of no fortune, of mean habits, and
altogether unworthy of accepting as a hus
husband. Silas Thorndyke, to whom she
thus committed her happiness, had fur a
short time acted as bailiff on the farm; and
no sooner did he feel himself master than
his subserviency was changed to selfish in
difference, and that gradually assumul
coarser character. He discovered that the
property, by the will of Mr. W., was so se
cured against every chance or casualty to
the use and enjoyment of his wife that it
not only did not pass by marriage to the
ne.v bridegroom, but she was unable to
alienate or divest herself of any portion of
it during life. She could, however, dispose
of it by will; but in the event of her dying
intestate, the whole descended to her daugh
ter, Mary Woodley.
Incredibly savage was Thorndyke when
he made that discovery, and bitter and in
cessant were the indignities to which he
subjected his unfortunate wife, for the
avowed purpose of forcing her to make a
will entirely in his favor, and of course dis
inheriting her daughter. These persecu
tions failed-of their object. An unexpected,
quiet, passive but unconquerable resistance,
was opposed by the, in all other things,
bowed and submissive woman, to this de
mand of her domineering husband. Her
failing health—for, gently nursed and ten
derly cherished as she had been, the callous
brutality of her husband soon told upon the
unhappy creature—warned her that Mary
would soon be an orphan, and that upon her
firmness it depended whether the child of
him to whose memory she had been, so fa
tally for herself, unfaithful, should be cast
homeless and penniless upon the world, or
inherit the wealth to which, by every prin
ciple of equity, she was entitled.
Come what may, this trust at least should
not, she mentally resolved, be betrayed or
paltered with. Every imaginableexpedient
to vanquish her resolution was resorted to.
Thorndyke picked a quarrel with Ward,her
father, who had lived at Dale Farm since
the morrow of her marriage with Woodley,
and the old gentleman was compelled to
leave and take up his abode with a distant
and some what needy relative. Next Ed
ward Wilford, the only son of a neighboring
and prosperous farmer, who had been be
trothed to Mary Woodley several months be
fore her father's death, was brutally insulted
and forbidden the house. All, however,
failed to shake the mother's resolution, and
at length, finding all his efforts fruitless,
Thorndyke appeared to yield the point, and
upon that subject, at least, ceased to harrass
his unfortunate victim.
Frequent private conferences were now
held between Thorndyke,his two daughters,
and Elizabeth Wareing—a woman approach
ing middle age, whom, under the specious
pretense, that Mrs. Therndke's interesting
ailments rendered the services of an exper
ienced matron indispensable, he had lately
installed at the farm. It was quite evident
to both the mother and daughter, that a
much greater degree of intimacy subsisted
between the master and housekeeper than
their relative positions warranted, and from
some expressions heedlessly dropped by the
woman, they suspected them to have been
once on terms of confidential intimacy.
Thorndyke, I should have mentioned, was
not a native of these parts, he had answered
Mr. Woodley's advertisement as a bailiff,
and his testimonials appearing satisfactory,
he had been somewhat precipitately engag•
ed. A young man, calling himself Edward,
the son of Elizabeth Wareing, and said to
be engaged in an attorney's office in Liver
pool, was also a not unfrequent visitor a tDale
Farm, and once he had the insolent pre
sumption to address a note tollaryWoodley
for malty tendering his hand and fortune!—
This, however, did not suit Mr. Thorndykc's
views, and Mr. Edward Wareing was very
effectually rebuked and silenced by his pro
posed father-in law.
Mrs. Thromlyke's health rapidly declined.
The woman Wareing, touched possible by
sympathy or remorse, exhibited considerable
tenderness and compassion toward the in
valid, made her nourishing drinks, and ad
ministered the medicine prescribed by the
village practitioner—who, after much delay
and pooh, pooping, by Thorndyke, had been
called in—with her own hands. About three
weeks previous to Mrs. Thorndyke's death,
a sort of reconciliation was patched up,
through her instrumentality, between the
husband and wife, and an unwonted expres
sion of kindness and compassion, real or
stimulated, sat upon Thorndyke's features
every time he approached the dying woman.
The sands of life ebbed swiftly with Mrs.
Thorndyke. Infolded in the gentle, but
deadly, embrace with which consumption
seizes its victims, she wasted rapidly away,
and, most perplexing symptoms of all, violent
retchings and nausea, eTecially after talc
mEdieine—which, according to Davis,
the village surgeon, was invariably of a
sedative sharneter—aggravatedand confirm
ed the fatal disease which was hurrying her
to the tomb.
Not once during this last illness could
Mary Woodley, by chance or by stratagem,
obtain a moment's private interview with
mother, until a few minutes before her
decease. Until then, under one pretense or
another, Elizabeth Wareing, one of Thorn
dyke's daughters, or Thorndyke himself,
was always present in the s ick chamber.—
lt was evening, darkness had for sometime
fallen, no light had yet been taken into the
dying woman's apartment; and the pale
starlight which faintly illuminated the room.
served, as Mary Woodley softly approached
on tiptoe to the bedside of her, as she sup
posed, sleeping parent, but to deepen by
defining the shadows thrown by the full,
heavy hangings, and the massive furniture.
Gently, and with beating heart, Mary Wood
ley drew back the bed curtain nearest the
window. The feeble uncertain light flickered
upon the countenance, distinct in its mortal
paleness, of her parent, the eyes recognized
her, and a glance of infinite tenderness
gleamed fur an instant in the rapidly dark
ening orbs, the right arm essayed to lift
itself, as for one last embrace.
Vainly! Love, love only, was strong,
stronger than death, in theexpiring mother's
heart, and the arm fell feebly back on the
bed clothes Mary Woodley beat down in
eager grief, for she felt instineth ely that the
bitter hour at last was come. Their lips
met, and the last accents of the mother
murmured, "Beloved Mary, I-1 have been
true to you—nu will—no" , A slight
tremor shook her frame; the spirit that look
ed in love from the windows of the eyes
departed on its heavenward journey, and
the unconscious shell only of what had once
been her mother remained in the sobbing
daughter's arms.
I will not deny that this narrative, which
I feel I have but coldly and feebly rendered
from its earnest, tearful tenderness, as relat
ed by Mary Woodley, affected me considera
bly—case-hardened as, to use an old bar
pun, we barristers are supposed to be, nor
will the reader be surprised to bear that
suspicious, graver even than those which
pointed to forgery, were envoked by the
sad history. Much musing upon the strange
circumstances thus disclosed, and profoundly
cogitative on the best mode of action to be
pursued, the "small hours," the first of them
at least, surprised me in my arm-chair. I
started up, and hastened to bed, well know
ing from experience that a sleepless vigil is
a wretched preparative for a morrow of ac
tive exertion of mind or both..
I was betimes in court the next morning,
and Mr. Barnes, proud as a peacock of fig
cring as an attorney in an important civil
suit, %vas...soon at my side. The case had
excited more interest than I lied supposed,
and the court was very early filled. Mary
Woodley and her grandfather soon arrived,
and a murmur of commiseration ran through
the auditory as they took their seats by the
side of Barnes. There was a strong bar
arrayed against us, and Mr. Silas Thorn
dyke, I noticed, was extremely busy and
important with whisperings and suggestions
to his solicitor and counsel—received, of
course, as such meaningless familiarities
are, with barely civil indifference.
Twelve common jurors were called and
sworn well and truly to try the issue, and I
arose amidst breathless silence to address
them. lat once frankly stated the circum
tances under which the brief bad come into
my hands, and observed that if, for lock of
of advised preparation, the plaintiff's case
failed on that day, another trial, under favor
of the court above would, I doubted not, at
no distant period of time,, reterse the pos
sibly at present unfavfa able decision. "My
learned friends on the other side," I contin
ued, "smile at this qualified admission of
mine, let them do so. If they apparently
establish to day the validity, of a will which
strips an only child of the inheritance be
queathed by her father, theywill, I tell them
lemphatically, have obtained but a temporary
triumph fora person who—if I, if you gen
tlemen of the jury, are to believe the ease
intended to be setup :IS a bar to the plaintiff's
clahn—has succeeded, by the grossest brut
ality, the most atrocious devices, ie bending
the mind of the deceased Mrs. Thorndyke
to his selfish purposes. My learned friend
need not interrupt me, I shall pursue these
observation, for the present, no further,
merely adding that I, that his lordship, that
you, gentlemen of the jury, will require of
him the strictest proof—proof clear as light
—that the instrument upon which he relies
to defeat the equitable, the righteous claim
I of the young and amiable person at my side,
is genuine, and not, as I eerily believe"—l
looked as I spoke, full in the face of Thorn
dyke—"forged."
"My lord," exclaimed the opposing coun
sel, "this is really insufferable'
His lordship, however, did not interpose,
and I went on to relate, in the most telling
manner of which I was capable, the history
of dececased Mrs. Thorndyke's first and
second marriages, the harmony and happi
ness of the first—the wretchedness and
cruelty which characterized the second. I
narrated, also, the dying words of Mrs.
Thorndyke to herdaughter, through repeated
ly interrupted by the defendant's counsel,
who manifested great indignation that a
statement unsuseeptibleof 1e4.41 proofshould
be addressed to the court and jury. My ad
dress concluded, I put in James Woodley's
will, and, as the opposing counsel did not
dispute its validity, nor require proof of
Mary Woodley's identity, I intimated that
the plaintiffs case was closed.
The speech for the defendant was calm
and guarded. It throw, or attempted to
throw discredit on the death bed "flotion,"
got up, Mr. P- said, simply with a view
to effect, end he eoneluded averring that he
should be able to establish, the genuineness
of the will ofnllen Thorndyke, now pro
duced, by irresistible evidence. That done,
however much the jury might wish the pro
perty had been otherwise disposed of, they
would of course, return a verdict in accor
dance with their oaths and the law of the
land.
The first witness was Thomas Headley, a
smith, residing near the Dale Farm. He
swore positively that the late Mrs. Thorn
dyke, whom he knew well, had cheerfully
signed the will ilea- produced after it had
bean deliberately read over to her by her
husband about a fortnight before her death.
Silas Thorudyke, John Cummins, Elizabeth
Wareing, and witness, weve the only persons
present. Mrs. Thorndyke expressed confi
dence that her husband would provide for
Mary Woodley.
"And so I will," said sleek Silas, rising
up and looking round upon the auditory.—
"If she will return, I will be afatherto her."
No look, no sound of sympathy or approval
greeted this generous declaration; and he
sat down again a little disconcerted.
I asked this burly, half-drunken witness
but one question: '•When is your marriage
with Rebecca Thorndyke, the defendant's
eldest daughter, to be celebrated?"
"I don't know, Mr. Lawyer, perhaps
never."
"That will do, you can go down."
S now rose to state that his
client was uable to produce ElizabethWare
ing and another of the attesting witnesses
to the a ill in court. No suspicion that any
opposition to the solemn testament made by
the deceased Mrs. Thorndyke would be at
tempted, had been entertained, and the wo
man, unaware that her testimony would be
required, had left that part of the country.
Es ery effort had been made by the defend
ant to discover her abode without effect.—
It was believed she had gone to America,
where she had relatives. The defeudant had
filed an affidavit setting forth these facts,
and it was now prayed that secondary evi
dence to establish the genuineness of Eliza
beth Wareing's attesting signature should
be admitted.
I of course vehemently opposed the de
mand and broadly hinted that the witness
was purposely kept out of the way.
"Will my learned friend," said Mr. ',-
with one of his slyest sneers, "inform us
what motive the defendent could possibly
have to keep hack a witness so necessary to
him."
"Elizabeth Wareing," I curtly replied,
"may not, upon reflection, be deemed a safe
witness to subject to the ordeal of a cross
examination. But to settle the matter, my
lord," I exclaimed, "I have an affidavit of
the plaintiff's attorney, in which ho states
that he has no doubt of being able to find
this important witness, if time be allowed
him for the purpose, the defendant, of course,
undertaking to call her when produced."
A tremendous clamor of counsel hereupon
ensued, and fierce and angry grew the war
of words. The hubbub was at last terminated
by judge recommending that, under the
circumstances, "a juror should be with
drawn." This suggestion, after some demur,
was agreed to. Oneof the jurors was whis
pered to come out of the box, then the clerk
uf the court exclaimed, "My lord, there are
only eleven men un the jury," and by the aid
of this venerable, if clumsy expedient, the
cause of Woodley vs. Thorndyke was de
facto adjourned to a future day.
I had nut long returned to the hotel,
when I was waited upon by Mr. Wilford,
senior, the father of the young man who
had been forbidden to visit Dale Farm by
Thorndyke. his son, he informed me, was
ill from chagrin and anxiety—confined to
his bed, indeed, and Mary Woodley had re
fused, it seemed, to accept pecuniary aid
from the father or son. Would I endeavor
to terminate the estrangement which had
fur some time unhappily existed, and pur
sued° her to accept his, Wilford, senior's,
freely offered curse and service? I instant
ly accepted both the mission and the large
aunt which the excellent man tendered. A
part of the money I gave Barnes to stimul
ate his exertions, and the rest I placed in
the hands of Mary Woodley's grandpapa.
with a friendly admonition to him not to
allow his grandchild to make a fool of her
self, an exhortation which produced its
effect in due season.
Summer had passed away, Autumn had
conic and gone, and the winter assizes were
once more upou us. Regular proceedings
had been taken, and the action in eject
ment of Woodley vs. Thorndyke was once
more on the cause list of the Chester circuit
court, marked this time as a special jury
case. Indefatigable as Mr. Barnes had
been in his search fur Elizabeth Wareing,
not the slightest trace of her could he dis
cover, and I went into court, therefore, with
but slight expectation of invalidating the,
as I fully believed, fictitious will. We had
however, obtaided a good deal of informa
tion relative to former history, not only of
the absent Mrs. Wareing, but of Thorndyke
himself, and it was quite within the range
of probabilities that something might come
out enabling me to use that knowledge to a
good purpose. The plaintiff and old Mr.
Ward were seated in the court besides Mr.
Barnes, as on the former abortive trial, but
Mary Woodley bad, fortunately for herself,
lost much of the interest which attaches
to female comeliness and graces when
associated in the mind of the spectator
$1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE
with undeserved calamity and sorrow.—
The black dress which she still wore—the
orthodox twelve months mourning for a
parent had not yet quite elapsed—was now
freAt, and of €no quality, and the pale
lilies of her face were interspersed with
delicate roses, while by her side sat Mr.
Juhn Wilford, as happy in look as if no
such things as perjurers, forgers, or adverse
verdicts existed, to disturb the glad world.
Altogether we were decidedly less interested
than on the former occasion. Edward
Wareing, I must not omit to add, was
greatly to our surprise, present. He sat,
in apparent great amity, by the side of
Thorndyke.
It was late in the afternoon, and twilight
was gradually stealing over the dingy court,
when the case was called. The special jury
answered to their names, were duly sworn,
and admissions were made and put in as on
the previous occasion. Thomas lleadly, the
first witness called in support of the pre
tended will, underwent a vigorous cross-ex
amination, but I was unable to extract
anything of importance from him.
"And non-," said the defendant's lead
ing counsel, "let me ask my learned friend
if he has succeeded in obtaining the atten
dance of Elizabeth Wareing!"
I was of course obliged to confess that
we had been unable to find her, and the
judge remarked in that case he could receive
secondary evidence in proof of her attesta
tion of the will.
A whispered but manifestly eager confer
ence here took glace between the defend
ant and his counsel, occasionally joined in
by Edward Wareing. There appeared to
be nn indecision or hesitation in their hesi
iations, but at last Mr. P rose, and
with some ostentation of manner addressed
the court:
"In the discharge of my duty to the de
fendant in this action, my lord, upon whose
fair fame much undeserved obloquy has
been cast by the speeches of the plaintiff's
counsel—speeches unsupported by a shadow
of evidence—l have to state that anxious
above all things to stand perfectly justified
before his neighbors, and society, he has,
at great trouble and expense, obtained the
presence here today of the witness Eliza
both Wareing. She had gone to reside in
France with a respectable English family,
in the situation of housekeeper. We shall
now place her in the witness box, and, hav
ing done so, I trust we shall hear no more
of the slanderous imputations so freely lav
ished upon my client. Call Elizabeth Wale.
ing into court."
A movement of surprise and curiosity
agitated the entire auditory at this an
nouncement. Mr. Silas Thorndyke's natu
rally cadaverous countenance assumed an
ashy hue, in spite of his efforts to appear
easy and jubilant, and for the first time
since the commencement of the proceedings
I entertained the hope of a successful issue.
Mrs. Wareing appeared in answer to the
call, and was duly sworn "to tell the truth;
the whole truth and nothing but the truth."
She was a good-looking woman, of perhaps
forty years of age, and bore a striking re
semblance to her son. She rapidly, smooth
ly and unhesitatingly confirmed the evi
dence of lleadly to a title. She trembled,
I observed, excessively, and on the exam
ining counsel intimating that he had no
more questions to ask, turned hastily to
leave the box.
"Stay—stay, my good woman," I ex
claimed, "you and I must have a talk to
gether before we part."
.She started and looked back at me with
frightful earnestness, and then her nervous
glances stole toward Mr. Silas Thorndyke.
There was no comfort there—in his counte
nance she only saw the reflex of the agita
tion and anxiety which marked her own.—
Sleek Silas, I could see, repented of the
rash move he had made, and would have
given a great deal to get his witness safely
and quietly out of court.
It was now nearly dark, and observing
that it was necessary that the court and
jury should see, as well as hear, the witness
while under examination, I requested that
lights should be brought in. This was done
Two candies were placed in front of the
witness box, one on each side of Mr•.
Wareing. a few others were disposed about
the bench and jury desks. The effect of
this partial lighting of the gloomy old
court was that the witness stood out in
strong and bright relief from the surround
ing shadows, rendering the minutest change
or play of her features distinctly visible.
Mr. Silas Thorndyke was, from his posi
tion, thrown entirely into the shade, and
any telegraphing between him and the wit
ness was thus rendered impossible. This
preparation, as if' for some extraordinary
and solemn purpose, together with the pro
found silence which reigned in the court,
told fearfully, as I expected, upon the
nerves of Mrs. Elizabeth Wareing. She
already seemed at if about to swoon with
agitation and ill-defined alarm.
"Pray, madam," said I, "is your name ,
Wareing or Tucker?"
She did] not answer. I repeated the
question.
"Tucker," shoat last replied, in a tremu
lous whisper.
"I thought so, and pray, Mrs. Tucker,
Were you ever in trouble in London for
rubbing your lodgings?"
I thought she attempted to answer, but
no sound passed her lips. One of the ush
ers of the court handed her a glass of water
at my suggestion, and she seemed to recover
[WHOLE NUMBER, 1,463.
somewhat. I pressed my question, and at
last she replied, in the same low, agitated
voice. "Yes, I have been."
"I know you have; Mr. Silas Thorndyke
I believe, was your bail on that occasion,
and the matter was, I understood, corn
promised—arranged--at all events the
prosecution was not pressed. Is not this
so?"
"Yes—no—yes."
"Very well, either answer will do. You
lived also, I believe, with Mr. Thorndyke,
as his housekeeper, of course, when he was
in the business as a coneoctor and vender
of infalliable drugs and pills?"
"Yes."
"He was held to be skilful in the prepa
ration of drugs, was he not—well versed
in their properties?"
"Yes—l believe so—l do not know.—
Why am I asked such questions?"
"You will know presently. And now,
woman, answer the question I am about to
put to you, as you will be compelled to
answer it to God at the last great day.—
What was nature of the drug which you or
he mixed with the medicine prescribed for
the late Mrs. Thorndyke?"
A spasmodic shriek, checked by a
de.perate enrt; partially escaped her, and
stood fixedly gazing, with staring eyes into
nu face
The profoundest silence reigned in the
court as I reiterated the question.
"You roust answer, woman," said tho
judge, sternly, "unless you know your an
swer will criminate yourself."
The witness looked wildly round the
court, as if in search of counsel or sympa
thy, but encountering none but frowning
and eager faces—Thorndvke she could not
discern in the darkness—she became giddy
and panic-stricken, and scenic(' to lose all
presence of mind.
"lle—he—he," she at last gasped, "he
mixed it. Ido not know—. But how,"
she added, pushing back her hair, and
pressing her hand against her hot temples,
"can this be? What can it mean?"
A movement among the bystanders just
at this moment attracted the notice of the
judge, and he immediately exclaimed.—
"The defendant must not leave the court."
An officer placed himself beside the wretch
ed murderer, as well as forger, and I re
sumed the cross-examination of the witness.
"Now, Mrs. Tucker, please to look at
this letter. (It was that which had been
addressed to Mary Woodley by her son.)—
"That, I believe, is your son's hadwriting."
"Yes."
"The body of this will has been written
by the same hand. Now, woman, answer.
Was it your son—this young man who, you
perceive, if guilty, cannot escape from
justice—was it he who forged the name of
the deceased Mrs. Thorndyke, and of John
Cummins, attached to it?"
"Nut he—not he!" shrieked the wretched
woman. "It was Thorndyke—Thorndyko
himself." And then, with a sudden revul
sion of feeling, as the consequence of what
....he had uttered flashed upon her, she ex
claimed, "Oh, Silas, what have I Bahr.—
what have I done!"
"Hanged me; that's all, you accursed
devil!" replied Thorndyke, with a gloomy
ferocity. "But I deserve it for trusting in
such an idiot; dolt and fool that I was fur
doing so."
The woman sank down in strong convul
sions, and was, by direction of the judge
carried out of the hal!.
The anxious silence which pervaded the
court during this scene, in which the reader
will have observed I played a bold, tenta
tive, and happily successful game, was bro
ken as the witness was borne off, by a loud
murmur of indignation, followed by con
gratulatory exclamations on the fortunate
termination of the suit. The defendant's
counsel threw up their briefs, and a verdict
was at once returned for the plaintiff.
All the inculpated parties were speedily
in custody, and the body of Mrs. Thorn
dyke having been disinterred, it was dis
covered that she had been destroyed by
bichloride of mercury, of which a consider
able quantity had been detected in the body.
I was not present at the trial of Thorndyke
oral his accomplices—he for murder, and
'deadly fur perjury—but I saw by the pub
lic prints that he was found guilty and exe
cuted. Head ly was transported, the woman
was, if I remember rightly, admitted evi
dence for the Crown.
Mary Woodley was of course put iuto
immediate possession of her paternal in
heritance, and is now—at least was about
four months ago, when I dined with her and
her husband at Pale Farm—a comely, pros
perous matron, and as happy as a woman
with a numerous progeny, an easy tempered
partner, can in this (according to romance
writers) vale of grief and tears expect to
he. The service I was fortunately enabled
to render her forms one of the most pleasing
recollections of my life.
A Marriage or a Duel
There is a deal of talk in the Parisian
world about a marriage which has just taken
place. It is the denouement of rather a ro
mantic adventure.
Sir Edward S—, a baronet, '2B year. of
age, of an agreeable appearance, fine family.
with an income of 25,000 livres, was terri
bly afflicted with ennui, and with that Eng
lish malady, the spleen. Nothing surpris
ing in that. Byron would have had this
spleen, and would have blown oat his brain.,
had be remained in England. happily for