SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor VOLUME XXIX, NUMBER 93.7 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING Officc in Northern Central Railroad Ccm pany's Building,north-west corner Front and Walnut streets. Terms of Subscription (One Copy per annum.i f puidut adennce 41 611 if not paid willusi three atonthsfrom cOultneueenten lel they cur, 200 4=4311t ISA za, No aubaeription received foe a le,. time than .ix months; and no paper tv.ll be di-continued mud all arrearagesare paid, unle4sat the optionof the puL aaher. .11 tOr . oneygrtay beremittedbym ail rtithepublish er,s risk. Rates of Advertising. aqtaare (6 liner) one weal, Ihree weeke each .uh=”queminsertion. 10 [l2n rte.] one week. 50 100 ii I=l Largeradvertisernenti.in proportion. A liberal di , conni will be grinde to quarterly, hall yearty or yearlyttlirertiscriz,who arc strlcill.confined (in their bu.iness. irttris. We too have our Autumns =I We, too, have autumns, when our leaves Dump looeely through the dampened air, When all our good seems bound It/ slivavc.A. And we stand reaped and bare Our seasons have no fixed reiurn., Wuhout our they CONIC and go; At noon our sudden summer burn:, tee sunset all is snow. But each (lay bring. , le'cc summer cheer, Crimps more our ineffectual riming, And something earlier every )enr Our singing birds take wing. As lens the olden glow atiiileg, And 10.. t the chillier heart 1,111[1,1 With drib-wood bleached in ]slot spring tides Ire light our ;Wien tires. By the pinchnd bruin We cower and .tram our n , i/N1 h To •tutelt youth's shroud up. sewn by ',IT In the long Arcue nOn. It was not so—SVC once v, err young-- When Sontag, to ‘voinuttly Suomi , r tut itimr, lire dew-clrop‘ ou each erne.-Llutlc strung. In the sunrt.e Int rut ag. We trusted, then, a , rotred, believed That earth could be re-made to-morrow,— Alt. w•hy be ever undeceived' Why give up faith for sorrow ' Oh, thou whose days are }et all spring, Trust, blighted once. to puqt teluetlllg; Experience is a dumb, dead tlarg; The . rictoo 'F. ill Good Night I= Good Night! I hove to any ChoodNO4ht To PLIPIi n host of peeress chuigy Good Night unto :hot snowy hood All queenly with iis weight 01 rings' Good :tight to fond. del irloil% eyes, Good night to clo•stri 11 braid.; of tour, Good night unto thn perfect tounth, And all the nomtnec4 ii,cgica th e re The snowy hand detains me, then I'll have to say '•Clood Night' aguitl. But there will echne a time, my love, When it I road our etas aright, I -hall not linger by thi. porch With my adieus —Till then, Good Night' You wish dint time were now? And 1: Yoo do not hlu•h to wi 41 You would hove Iduvbcd yoursc;l to death To own PO nivch a year ngo— Whut, both these .Ilowy hand,: air. 01 , 11 I'll hove to say -Good :trigln - upon'. previous state or existence, so natural was it to be in familiar amt almost affectionate communication with the woman whom be• - 1 fore be had loved afar off, as a page might rrom the Blhmt , e Nloothiv i sigh for a (tueen. gftrtti)l'lls. The Rivals; OR, TRY, WIIIRLCIG 01 um: And 'hue the whirlgig of time brings in ins nivengre —Twelfth Night. My friend Jameson, the lawyer, has fre quently whiled away an evening in relating incidents which occurred in his practice dur , ing, his residence in a Western State. On one occasion he gave a sketch of a criminal trial in which he was employed es counsel; the story, as developed in court and com pleted by one of the parties subsequently, made so indellible an impression on my mind that I am constrained to write down its leading features. At the same time. I must say, that, if I had heard it without a voucher for its authenticity, I should have regarded it as the most improbable of fic tions. But the observing reader will re member that:remarkable coincidences, and the signal triumph of the right, called poet ical justice, arc sometimes seen in actual life as well as in novels. The tale must begin in Sittvony. Carl Proch was an honest farmer, who tilled a small tract of crown land and thereby sup ported his aged mother. Faithful to his chi lies, ho had never a thought of discontent, but was willing to plod on in the way his father had gone before him. Filial affection however, did not so far engross him as to prevent his casting admiring glances on the lovely Latrine, daughter of old liauchen, the miller; and no wonder, for she was as fascinating a damsel as ever dazzled and per plexed a bashful lover. She had adtnirati.n enough, for to see leer was teloce her: many of the village youngsters had looked unut terable things as they mother at May feasts and holidays, but up to this titne she had se ceived no poetical epistles nor direct propo sals, and was as cheerful and heart-free as the birds that sang around her windows.— Her father was the traditional guardian of beauty, surly as the mastiff that watched his sacks of flour and his hoard of thalers; and though he dusted on his darling latrine, his heart to all the world beside seemed to be only a chip from one of his old mill stones. When Carl thought of the severe gray eyes that shot such glances at all lingering youths, the difficulty of winning the pretty heiress seemed to be quite enough, even with a field clear of rivals. But two other suitors now made advances, more or less openly, and poor Carl thought himself en tirely overshadowed. One was Schoenfeld, the most considerable farmer in the neigh borhood, a widower, with hair beginning to show threads of silver, and a fierce man withal, who was supposed to have once slain a rival, wearing thereafter a seam in his cheek as a souvenir of the encounter. The other was Hans Stolzcn, a carpenter, past thirty, a shrewd, well-to-do fellow, ith nearly a thousand. thalers saved from his earnings. Carl had never fought a duel,— and he had not saved so much as a thousand grosehen, to say nothing of thalers; he had only a manly figure, a cheery, open face, the freshness of onc-and-twenty, and a heart incapable of guile. Katrine was not long in discovering these excellencies, and, if his I boldness bad equalled his passion, she would have shown him how little she es teemed the pretensions of the proud land holder or the miserly carpenter. But he took it for granted that he was a fool to con tend against such odds, and. buttoning his Jacket tightly over his throbbing heart, toiled away in his little fields, thinking that the whole world had never contained so mis erable a man. 50 EMI Haus Stulzen was the first to propose.— He began by paying court to the jealou, Ibtuchen himself, set forth his property and his prospects, and asked to become his son in-law. The miller heard him, puffed long whiffs, and answered civilly, but without committing him-ailf. Ile was in no hurry to part with the only joy lie hd, and, as latrine was barely eighteen, he naturally tht . mght there would be time enough to con bider of her marriage hereafter. flans hardly expected rin, thing more decisive. and, as he had not been flatly refu.mi, came frequently to the house, and chatted with her father, while his eyes followed the viva cious latrine as she tripped about her house hold duties. But lions was perpetually kept at a distance; the humming-bird would never light upon the outstretched hand.— lie had not the wit to see that their natures had nothing in common, although he did know that latrine was utterly indifferent towards him, and after some months of hopeless pursuit he began to grow sullenly He Nras not long without an object EMU on which to vent his rage. One evening, ;is Latrine was returning homeward, she chanced to pass Carl's cot tage. Carl was loitering under a tree hard by, listening to the quick footstep to which his heart kept time. It was the coining of Foto to him, for he had made up his wind to tell her of the love that was consuming him. Two days before with tears on his bashful face, lie had confided all to his mother; and, at her suggestion, he lied now provided a little present by way of introduc tion. Katrina smiled sweetly es she ap proached, for, with a woman ' s quick eye, she had read his glances long before. His lips at first rebelled, but ho struggled out e salutation, nod, the ice once broken, he round, himself strangely unembarrassed.— lie breathed freely. It seemed to him that their relations nnlQt have been file: in some • "Stay, Katrina" he said,—"l hail nearly forgotten." lle ran hat•tily into the cottage, and soon returned with a covered basket.— "See, Katriuc, these white rabbitsl—are they not pretty."' "Oh, the little pets!" exclaimed Latrine. "Are they yours?" "Na, Katrinchen—that they were mine; now they are yours." "Thank . sou, Carl. I eLall love them dvarly. ' "For m - sake?" "For their own, Carl, certainly; fur 3-ours also,--a little." "Gond-bye, Bonny," said be. patting the bead of one of the rabbits. "Love your mistress; and, mind, little whitey, don't keep those long ears of yours for nothing; tell me if you ever hear anything about me." "Perhaps Carl had better come and hear for himself,—don't you think so, Bunny?" said latrine, taking the basket. The tone and manner said more than the words. Carl's pulses bounded; he seized her unresisting hand and covered it with kisses. "Sol this is the bashful young man!" thought Katrine. "I shall not need to en courage him nnv more, surely." The night was coaling on; Kr.trine re membered her father, and started toward the mill, whose broad arms could scarcely be seen through the twilight. Carl accompa vied her to the gate, and, after a furtive glance upward to the house-windows, bade her farewell.: with a kiss, and turned home ward, feeding himself a man for the first time in his life. Frau Porch had seen the pantomine through the Powers that !stood on the win dow-sill, not ill-pleased, and was waiting her son's return. An hour passel, and be did not come. Another hour, and she began to grow rinzions. When it was near mid night, she roused her nearest neighbor and asked him to go towards the mill and luok for Carl. An hour of terrible suspense en sued. It was worse than she had even feared. Carl lay by tho roadside, not far from the midi, insensible, covered with blood . moaning feebly at first, and afterwards si lent, if not breathless. Ghastly wounds covered his head, and his arms and shoul ders were livid with bruises. The neighbor. "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 11„ 1858. ing peasants surrounded the apparently life. less body, and listened with awe to the fren zied imprecations of Frau Proch upon the murderer of her son. "May he die in a for eign land," said she, lifting her withered hands to heaven, "without wife to nurse him or iiriet to speak peace to his soul!— May his body lie unburied, a prey fur wolves and vultures! May his inheritance pass into the hands of strangers, and his name perish from the earth!" They muttered their prayers, as they encountered the blood shot, but tearless eyes, and left her with her son. For a whole day and night he did not speak; then n violent brain fever actin, and he raved continually. He fancied himself put --ated by Hans Stolzen, and recoiled as from the blows of his staff. When this was reported, suspicion was directed at once to Stolzen as time criminal; but before an ar rest could be made, it was found that he had l ied. EL, disappearance confirmed the be lief of his guilt! In truth, it was the re jected suitor, who, in a fit of jealous rage, had wavl•aid his rival in the dark, beat him, and left hula fl,r dead. liatrine, rho hai always di-diked Stolzen, e4pctdallv al ce he had punmed her with his coane and awkward gallantry, now natu rally felt ft warracc affection for the victim of hiq brutality. She threw off all disguise. and nent tu Frau Proeh's cottage, to aid in nursing the invalid during his slow and painful recov Ty. She had, one day. the unsi,eakalde :I-ore of catching the first retur big sanity in her hap le,s lover, a , she bon over him and tt ith gentle lingers smooth' , lids knotted forehead and temple, tie now b"una them together; their mutual love Rll , now consecrated by suffering and sacrifice; and they vowed ti be faithfal in life and in - When Carl at length became strong and commenced labor. he hoped speedily to claim his betrothed, and was vaiting IL fa vorable opportunity to obtain her father's consent to their marriage. The scars we. a: the only evidence of the suffering he had endured. No hones had been hi hen, and he was as erect and as vigorous s before the a , tault. But Carl, most unfortunate of men, was not destined so soon, to en; -y the happiness for which he hoped—tho love that had called him-back to life. A, the' robber eagle sits on his cliff, waiting till vie hawk has seized the ling-dove then dart , down and heats off the captor, that he me v secure for himself the prize-so Sehoonfeld, not uninformed of what was going on, sto,;(1 ready to pounce upon the suitor ttho should gain Ratarine's favor, and sweep the last rival out of the way. An iffier in the king's service appeared in the village to draw the conscripts for the army, and the young men trembled like pennetbnp ii cop at the entrance of the blood-stained lintel not knowing who would he seized for the shambles. The officer hail appatently been a friend and companion ;,f Selo - el:fold's in former days, and passed sometime at his house, It was perhap , , only a eohmideoe 0, but it struck the neighbors as Nery odd at least, that Carl Proch was the first man drawn for the army. Iffe had no looney to hire a substitute, and there was no alterna the: he must serve his three years. This last blow was too much for his poor mother. Worn down by her constant assiduity in nursing, him: and overcome by the sense of utter desolation, she stink into her grave,' and was buried on the very day that Carl, with the other recruits, was marched off. What new torture the betrothed Katarino felt is not to be told. Three years were to her an eternity; and her imagination called up such visions of danger from wounds, p r i va tions, and disease, that she parted from her lover as though it we; c forever. The miller found that the light and melody (X I hi s hou s e were gone. Katarine was silent ' I find sorrowful; her fill:1;e wasted and her step grew feeble. To all his offers (of cons; &knee she made no reply, eacept to re mind him with tears the had besought his ; interference in Carl's behalf. She would not be comforted. The father little knew t h e f ee li ng s h e possessed; he had thought that her attachment to her rustic lover was only a girlish fancy, and that she would speedily forget hint: but now her despair ing look frightened him. To the neighbors who looked inquisitively as be sat by the mill-door smoking. he complained of the quality of his tobacco, towing that it inade his eyes so tender that they watered upon the slightest whiff. For six. months Schoenfeld wisely kept away; that period, lie thought, would he long cumuli - 1 to efface any recollection of the absent soldier. Then he presented himself and in his usual imperious way, offered his hand to Murillo. The miller was inclined to furor his suit. In wealth and positii.n Schee:lldd was first in the village: lie would I he n powcrfai nily. and a very disagreeable ei:ciny. In fact, Foviclien really feared to refuse the demand; and he plied his <laugh- 1 ter with such arTnement as he could corn- mond, hoping t) move her to neeept the offer. Katrinc, however, was convinced of the truth of her former suspicion, that Carl was a victim of Schoenfeld's crap: and her reje,ition of his proposal was pointed with an indignation which she took no pains to conceal. The old sear showed strangely ' white in his purple face, as he left the mill, vowing vengeance fur the affront. Raueben and his daughter were now more rolitary than ever. The father bad ; forgotten the roaring stories he used to tell to the neighboring peasants, over foaming flagons of ale, at the little inn; he sat at his mill-door and smoked incessantly.— Katrine shunned the festivities in which she was once queen, and her manner, though kindly, was silent and re.sened; she went to church it is true, but she wore a look of settled sorrow that awed curiosity and even repelled sympathy. But scandal is a plant that needs no root itt the earth; like the house-leek, it can thrive upon air; and those who separate theansel%es the most entirely from the world are apt, for that very rea son, to receive the larger share (or its .atten lion. The village girls lo Ited first with pity, then with wonder, and at length With aversion, upon the gentle and unfortunate Katrinc. Careless as she was with regard to public opinion, she saw not without pain the altered looks of her old asseciates, and before lung she came to know the cause.— A cruel suspicion had been whispered about, touching her in a most tender point. It was net without reason, so the gossip ran, that she had refused se eligible an offer of marriage as Sehteltfeld's. The story reach ed the ears of Itauchen, at last. With fierce energy, such as he ha'! Lever exhibi ted before, he tracked it flee.% cottage to cot tage, until he came to Seheenfeld's house keeper, who refused to Live her authority. The next market-day in'hen ear entered the former suitor and publit•ly charged him with the slander, in ouch terms as his hale ness deserved. Selimmeld thrown off his guard by the sudden attaek, struck his ad % ersary a heavy blow; hot the miller rush ea upon him, and left him to be carried home, a bundle of aches and bruises.— After this the tengues of the gossips were quiet; lie one %vas willing tt answer fur guesses or rumors at the end of Itauchen's staff; and the father and daughter resumed their monotenuus mode life. The three years at I,m , th passed, and Carl Proch returned Imme,—a trifle more sedate, perhapq, I,ut the same noble, manly fellow. How warmly 11,, li.ts received by the eonstant latrine it is not secs -;sary to re late, Rauchen was not di , posed to thwart his long-suffering daughter any further; and with his consent the ) onng couple were speedily married, as.d lived in his house,— The gayety of former years came back: cheerful songs and merry laughter were heard in the lately silent rooms, Reuchen hilt - I.olf grew younger, e..G.te , •lally after the h of a grandson, and often resumed 'his 011 place at the inn, telling the old stories with the old gttlo over the ever-welcome ale. But one morning, not long after, be Ns.l.; found load in his bed; a smile was an lt's face, and his limbs wmo stretched out as in peaceful repose. There was no homer any tie to bind Carl to I.i- make tilln :111 his kin, as well as Katrine's, were in the grave. He was not bred a miller, and did not feel competent to manage the mill. Ilerddcs., his mi n d h a d roe tivell new i , leo=llkile he was in the army. Ho 1,114 heard of coum ries where, men. wet e elual e the law , , where the peasant owed no ail . gianco hut, to :society. Tho gortn of liberty had been planted in his ht cast, and he could no longer live contented in the rank in which he had been born.— At lea , t he us i,Lul that hi: children might grow up free from the chilling, influences that had fallen up.m him. At his earnest persuasion, Kafrine consented th a t the m ill tdinuld he told, and ,ono after, with his wife and ohiid, he went, to Bremen and embarked for America. We must now follow the absconding Stil zen, who, with his hag of thrders, had made good his escape into England. He lived in London where he fund society among his' countiymen. Ilia hahitnal shrewdness. never deserted him; and from small begin nings be gradually amassed a moderate for tune. His first experiment in proposing fur a wife satisfied him, but in a great city his sensual nature was fully developed.— His brutal passions were unchecked: con, science seemed t t have lett him utterly.— At.dength he began to think about quitting London. lie was afraid to return to Ger many, for, ai he had left Carl to all appear ances dead, he thought the officers of the law w.uld se .Le him. lle .Icl - ermined to go to Australia, and secured a berth in a clipper Ship b )11M1 for Melbourne, but some accident presented his reaching the pier in season; the vessel soiled without him, and was never heard of afterwards. Then he proposed to buy an estate in Canada; but the owner failed to make his appearance at the time appointed for the negotiation, and the bargain was not completed. At last he took passage for Nee: "York, whither a He• brew acquaintance of his had gone, a year or two before, and was est ald i shed as a broker. up,. an icing in that city, Std.. ren purchased of an agent a tract of land in a Western Smte, ,dtuated on the .shore of Lake Michigan: and after reserving a !Anil of money for immediate 1 urpores, be de po,ited his fonds with his friend, the broker. and started westward. lie traveled the usual route by rail. been a short distance in a mail each, which carried Lim within six miles of his farm Leaving his luggage to he sent for, hr started to walk t h e re,„;,_ in; (list:ince It was ft sultry day. rod the prairie road was anything, Lut pleasant to a pedestrian unnee.mmtnert to heat and dust. After walking less than an hour, he determined to step at a small house near the road, for rest, and some water to french his thirst; but as he approached, the baying hounds, no less than the squalid children about the door, repelled him, and he went on to the next house. Ho now turned down a green lane, between rows of thrift• trees, to a neat log cabin, whose nicely plastered walls and the regular fence inelosing it testified to the thrift and good taste of the owner. He knocked; all was still. Again, and thirsty as lie was, he was nn the point of leaving, when heard a step within! Ire waited; the door opened, and before hint stood—Kat ri n She did not know him; but he had not forgotten that voluptuous figure nor those melting blue eyes. Lie preferred his re quests, looking through the doorway at the same time to make sure that she had no protector. Katrine brought the stranger a gourd of water, and offered him a chair. She did not see the baleful eves he threw after her as she went about her household duties. Stolzen had dropped from her fir moment like a fallen and forgotten star. Secure in her unsuspecting innocence, she chirruped to her baby and resumed her sewing That evening, when Carl Broth returned from his field, after his usual hard day's labor, he found his wife on the floor, sob bing, speechless, and the child, unnoticed, crying in the cradle. Ills dug sat by the hearth with a look of almost intelligent sympathy. and whined as soon as his tans ter entered the room. He raised Latrine and hell her in his arms like a child, cov ered her face with kisses, and implored her to speak. She seemed to be hi a fearful dream, and shrunk from route imagined danger in the extreinest terror. Gradually her sobs lterame less ft equent, her tremors ceased, and she smiled upon the manly face that met hers, as though she had only suf fered from nn imaginery fright. But when she felt her hair floating upon her shoulders, saw the almost speaking face of the dog, Bruno, and became conscious of the cries of the neglected child, the wave of agony swept over her again, and she could utter only broken ejaculations. As word after word came from her lips, the unhappy hus band's flush tingled; his hair stiffened with horror; every nerve seemed to be strung with a new . and maddening tension. There was for him no such thing ns fatigue, no distance, no danger—no law, no hereafter, no God! All thought and feeling wore drowned in one wild desire for vengtanee-- vengeance swift, terrilode, and .. Ho first caressed the dog as though he had been a brother; he put his arms around the shaggy neck, and shook ea,th f a ithful pow; he made his wife caress him also. "God be praised, dear Katrine, fur your protector, the dog!" said he. "Come, now, Bruno!" Katrine saw him depart with his dog and gun; hut if .ho guckesed his errand, she aid not dare remonstrate. He walked off rap idly—the, dog in advance, now and then baying as though he were on a trail. In the night he returned, and he smiled grimly as he down the rifle in its accus tomed corner. His nit . ° was waiting for hint with intense anxiety. It was tnarvel lous to her that he was so alit:11TO. He trotted her upon his knee, pressed her a hundred times to his hosom, kissed her forehead, lips and cheeks, called her his pretty Kate, his dear wife, and every en dearing; name he knew. So they sat, like lovers in their teens, till the purpling east told of a new day. The luggage of one Ste'hen, a stage coach passenger, remained at the tavern un called f.Jr, for nearly a year. No one knew the man, and his disappearance, though a profound mystery, was not an uncommon thing in a new country. The Hebrew broker in New York received nu answers to his letters, though lie had carefully pre served the post-office address which Stollen had given hint. He began to fear lest le should be obliged to fulfil the duty of heir ,hip to the property deposited with hint. Ti quiet his natural apprehensions in view of this es cut, he determined t) follatvStol zoo's track, as much as it lay in Ibis world. at least. and find out what had become of him. Upon arriving in the neighborhood, the Jew had a thorough search made. The country was scoured, and on the third day there was a discovery. A man walking on the sandy margin of a river, about two or three miles from Carl's house. saw a skull before him. As the steep bluff nearly os yr hung the spot where he stood, he conjec tured that the holy to which the skull be longed was to be found above on its verge. Ho climbed up, and there he saw a bead less skeleton. It was the body of Stuhren, as his tnemorandum-book and other articles showed. His pistol was in his pocket, and still loaded: that fact preluded the idea of suicide. Moreover. upon examining more elosely, a loillet-ledo was found in his loeast-bone. around sibi. h the parts were I,r4,ken orthrardly, showing that the, ball most have entered from behind. It stns clear that StAdzen had been nthrdered. Circumstances soon pointed to Carl Prnelt as the perpetrator. A stranger, correspond ing to the derea , ed in size and dress, been seen, about the time of his disappear. lance, the ncighloring fsmilr, smiling t . .war.l Louse; and, an tho of the same. , iay. an Iri.iman met Carl quint nt is rapid rate. -with a gun on his shoulder, as though in furious pursuit of some one. A warrant far his arrest was and he was lodged in jail to await his trial. If now the Hebrew had followed the lex talinnis, after the manner of his race $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE in ancient timos, it might have fared badly with poor Carl. But as soon as the broker was satisfied beyond a preadventure that the depositor was aetually dead, he hasten ' ed back to New York, joyful as a crow over a newly-found carcass, to administer upon the estate, leaving the law to take its own course with regard to the murderer. Beyond the two facts just mentioned as !implicating Carl, nothing, was proved at the trial. Jameson, the lawyer, whom I men , tinned, at the beginning of this story, was engaged for the defence. He found Carl singularly uncommunieative; and though the i government failed to make out a shad,,w of a ease against his client, he was yet puz , ?bed in his own mind by Curl's silence, and his real or assumed indifference. latrine was in court with her child in her arms, watching the proceedings with the closest ' attention. ' though she, as well as Carl, was unable to unuerstan't any but the most familiar and colloquial English. The case, was speedily decided; the few facts pre ' sented to the jury appeared to has o no necessary connection, and there was no known motive fur the deed. The jury unan imously acquitted Carl, and with his wife and buy be left the court room. The tcr diet was approved by tit' spectators, for no man in the neighborhood was more univer- sally loved and respected than Carl Proch. having paid James.on his fee fur his set.- ices, Call was about to depart, when the lawyer's curimdty could he restrained no longer, and he called his client back to the private room of his office. `•Carl," :mil he, "you look like a good fellow, al 00 anything mean or ieked: but vet I don't know what to make of you. Now you are entirely through with this scrape: . yon are acquitted; and r want to know what is the meaning of it all. r will keep it a secret from all your heighbors. Did von kill Stoh!en. or not?" "Well, if I did," he answered, "ran they do anything with !rte . ?" "No," said James'en. "Nut, if I acknowledge?" "No, you have been acquitted by a jury: and by our bov ft man can Lever I,e tried twice for the same offence. You are safe, even if you go into court and confess the deed." "Well, then, I did kill him,—rtnd i ‘rould xznin: For the moment, a fieroo light gleamed upon the calm and kindly face. Then, feeling that his answer would give a false view of the case, without the previous his• tory of the parties, Carl sat down and in his broken English told to his lawyer the ,tort'• f have here attempted to record. It was impossible to doubt a word of it; for the simplicity and pathos of the narrative were above all art. Here was a simple case, which the boldest inventors of schemes to punish villainy would have been afraid to use. Its truth is the thing that most ktertles the mind accustomed, to deal with tietiorts. We leave Carl to return to his farm with his \ i , for whom he had suffered so much, and with the hope that no further tempta tion in come to him in sot`h a guise as al most tv make murder a virtue, The Fourfold Dream If there be no city called illpp.sford among the north-western t , ,wnsof England, let it be there, whither I went five years n , o to FCC the Italian hung. 'rho name under which ha suffered woo qupp ,,, el to be it feigned num the dime %chic(' he ev.pinted was that of murder; the el.tying of hie toaster and 111 A benefactor as he 'dept, fir the taking of n elite of money which, in all probability, he might have had for the, ask ing. One of those atrocities, to giv . ?„ a rea son for which baffles the student of human nature. The defence set up for 11.1-tv,ranci was that of insanity': there being no doulo whatever ca to his having emunitt3d the deed, but this plea wag, in my opinion, very properly set aside. His advocate h Ripe IW , I be an intimate friend of mine; and it was through the iuterest—morbid and 'rep rehensible I am well aware—with which he had inapired me in the unhappy criminal, that I found myself among that crowd in front of Ilippeeford Gaul. I hoard some thing going on near me, a little n,o jocose for the occasion. "You cruel hearted ruffian, if you dare to mock. the p , ,lr wretch like that again," criod a deep, hiAr voice, "I'll save Mr. Cal eraft some trouble in your ea‘e." The speakrr was a line, powerfully-Imilt sailor. towering half a head above the throng; and, nn ler his Bashing eyes and threatening brows, the fellow tvli) had pro voked his wrath .ulimided at moo into mut terings, and presently into sullen silence. ;laving achieved this ond, he made r, od , servation, but kept him looks intently f"." "bon the ghastly preparatious shale its. He alone. ainidvt the hum mid no:•e of the erowd, maintained an it lenee. ctrl s rained his eyes It 10 the sc.if fold above. a. though he would have T 1 11T11. here] every nail in it: the ectretne niiziet3 ,of his face was remarkable even among3t those thousand eager and expeztant -write toinceq. Not caring to look upon the dread ' fill sight directly. I watched that face when the death-hell began to toll, ns though it were a mirror, feeling sure that. I should see reflected in it whatever vv,vs happening. It was horning and quivering with excitement. when the wretched criminal was carried up by three or four persons into view. Imme diately after he came in sight, this fixed expression vanished es completely as [WHOLE NUMBER, 1,480. though a curtain had been drawn over some picture; and, as the sailor cast his looks upon the ground, I hoard him mutter, in a solemn whisper, his thanks to Heaven. As the sailor and I were borne along together by the resistless human tide, I said to him. secure of sympathy, 'This is a sad sight, my friend, is it not."' "Yes, sir," said he, ''a terrible sight, in deed; hut it might have been worse." now so?" said I "Well, it's a inn.t.; story," he replied, "but if you like to listen to it, and to take a cup of tea kith me (of which I feel the need) at my ludging•:, I h ball be pleased enough. It will be a relief to Inc, 1 feel, to tell it even to a kranger." So we two went into a little room over looking the scene, nod which had been let (as had teen agreed upon when he took the apartment) throughout to a party of five gentlemen (:) and a !ady (!!), who hadonly just evacuated it. And there he told me this !dory: "Von must reeenee me if I am a little slow, at first, fin• yon throng has fairly daz zled and dent-founded me. I am quite new to sights of this sort, thank God; nor have I ever seen so great a crowd before. I live upon the south-east coast, where the folks are not so many as in these parts, and my awn Clllployment is a particularly soli tary one: lam a lighthouse man. I some time.; pass whele coke without seeing any other face than that of my mate, without hearing any ether voice save his, and that of the sea-gull, and of the baffled wave which beats fur ever against our rock. Even my holiday time is spent among people who pass almost as lonely lives as I do. My friends dwell at a coast-guard station, far away front any town, and indeed from me, only they can see every night our lantern burning steadily out to sea, which my ! mother and sister says is n great comfort to them when father is away from home. It is lonesome, you see, fur them to know that there is no human being save themselves within miles of them, the next post being a long distance beyond the headland, whither often on the darkest nights, my father has to go feeling for the white chalk heaps that •are laid down to mark the road betwixt the stations, the direction of which in old times, as they say, the smugglers used to alter, so that the poor revenue men were guided over the precipice, into•the arms of death below. Twelve years ago, a vessel WAS cast ashore, and went to pieces at cliff-font, beneath our guard house, and all the cress-, save one, were thrown by the scornful sea upon the shore, dead Moll; save one—." The sailor gave an involuntary look towards the thing that hung upon the high gaol wall there, motionless, with its ghastly cowl drawn over it--"and that man was an Italian foreigner. My people took hint in, and acted towards hint as Christian people should do, and he was grateful, and stayed with us, making himself its useful as he could, fur weeks, fir months. When he had been our gue.:t fer near upon a year, the man who Ives then my mato in the lighthouse, died; and, mainly through my father's recommendation, the Italian was appointed to Le my companion in his place. I was pleased that the poor fellow was thus presided for: but yet I had rather that he had been given any other post than that; not front ally assignable CaIIFC, or of course this could have Leen prevented; but from a %ogee. uncomfertable feeling that I had al ways had in connection with him, such as I should not base dreamt of mentioning to his prejudice. I did not mention it, I am perfectly certain, even to my mother. "When I found myself in the narrow lighthouse, clone with this man upon the waste of waters, this antipithy increased. I could not meet him on the winding stairs. without a ‘111.1(1.3 Cr ; I loathed his company in th.tt little sitting-room upon the lower •tors, which when my tily,l mate was with ma had seemed as comfortable a parlor as need to be; and when I was at work in the lantern, I was for ever thinking, what is be doing below there, and whereabouts shall I find him when I descend: I do not think that I was afraid of him, then. Time was, when I had not quailed from a death-strug gle with a far more powerful man than he, and had come off sictor; but still I did, not fancy taking my rest in the snug little bed chamber he of old, knowing that this man was awake, and watching, watching, all the night long. "Still, beyond being re=erred and taci turn, nnil baring this something repellant about him which I cannot explain, there w•ns nothing eNil to bc said about the poor Italian frreigner, and I W:IS ashamed of my , elf %d-never I rensoncd about the mat tor; for f, , eling as I di,l. ''On thn night of tide day twelve years aga, the shteentll of _kugnst, eighteen hun dred and 6,rty-on4l‘, my father was off-duty at linme, and %little he lay in his bed, cora !,ll:nr, with a certain idea, Ivbielxsbadowed his mind like a night-mare, my mother sliook him in piteous terror. "•Husband.' cried she. 'Husband, I hare had a fearsome dream,nud it seems so like to truth that I ardmiserable. Wake, wake! I do believe our George is being murdered by the Italian man:' 'Great Heavens!' cried my father.— 'Why I was stroke, ja.t now, by that very dream, and cannot shake it off my mind do what I wilL Bat it most be only fancy; consider how full the poor fellow bas al ways shown himself to be of gratitude to
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