SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor
VOLUME XXIX, NUMBER 93.7
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING
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(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