Cr D 17131 1 711 SVro
TOWANDA:
IM=2l:Mel
Saturbop illoritittn, September 80, 1834,
Sbtiertar Votirg.
NEW ENGLAND
BY lOU G. WHITTIZIt.
Land of the forest and the rock
-01 dark blue lake and mighty river—
Of mountains reared aloft to mock
The :torm'a career—the lightning's shock—
ty own, green land, forever !
Land of the beautiful and brave— ' -
he freeman 'a borne—the martyr's grave—
Me nursery of giant men,
Whose tl - i-tds have linked with every glen,
At d every hill and every stream,
The romance of some warrior dream!
Oh—neVer may a son of thin;
lAThere'er;his wandering steps incline,
Forget the sky which bent obove •
His childhood like a dream- of love—
The stream beneath the green hill flowing—
The broad armed trees above it growing—
The clear•breeg: through the foliage blowini;-
-Or, hear unmoved, the taunt of scorn,
Breathed o'er the brave New England born,—
Or mark the stranger's Jaguar hand
Disturb the ashes of thy dead—
The buried glory of a. land
Whose soil . -with noble blood is red,
And sanctified in erkry part,
Nor feel resentment, like a brand,
Unsheathing from his fiery heart!.
Oh, greener hills may catch the sun
Beneath the glOrious heaven of Fiance, •
And streams, rejoicing as they run
Like life beneath the day beams glance,
May wander where the orange bough
With golden fruit is bending low—
And there may bend a brighter sky
O'er green and classic Italy—
And pillared flute and ancient grave
Bear re,..ord of another time,
Andover shaft and architrave
The green luxuriant ivy climb—
And far towards the rising sun
The palm may :hake its leaves on high,
Where flowers are ripening, one by one,
Like stars upon the twi:tght sky,
And breez, - .s 'soft as sighs adore
Above the broad banana stray,
And through the-Brahmin's same( grove
A thousand bright-hued pinions play !
Yet unto thee, New England, still
Thy wandering sons shall stretch their arms,
And thy rude chart of rock and hill
Seem dearer than the land of palms!
Thy tnassy oak and mountain pine
More welcome than the banyan's shade,
And every free, blue stream of thane
Seem richer than the golden bed
Of Oriental waves, wt ich glow
And sparkle with the wealth below!
cittetteb.
IRE Er' If ilk ilk STIERIII.
Many years ago, a tine old property in—shire,
within a kw miles of my tather's ieside6ce.',pass•
ed, by the extravagance of the owner, almost en
tirely hom the lamtly, in whose hands it had re
mind since the wars of the Roses, -into those of a
morose, avaricious man, with whom, and whose
ancestors there had been a teud for centuries. Nev.
er but once during all these years hail there been
the slightest approach made by either party to a
reconciliation; and that exception was when Sir
Peirs Lynwood startled the whole country, and the
Shirleys in particular, by asking the hand of l.abel,
their youngest and favorite child, in marriage
‘Vhere he had seen her, and how wooed and won
her lore, no one ever knew; be: the lover was in.
dignantly and - insultingly refused, and after a few
months enduranCe oh the 'most cruel tyranny, Isa
bel Shirley died.
Tor the unspeakable rage an I mortification of
her family, Sir Pairs followed her to the grave,
stood over the vault, and when he turned away
bent such a look of stern concentrated hate upon
the old man and his ern, father and brother though
they were of Isabel, that.the bystanders shuddered.
Something of a mystery, a blight upon the poor
dear girl's name, was whispered about, b - it she had
been beloved and pitied in
,the neighborhood, and
the rumor soon died away. No one felt inclined
to repeat, or keep alive, a scandal respecting one
whose life had been so unhappy, and whose end
had been so tragic.
Some letters were said to. pass after the funeral
between Sir Petits and Colonel Shirley, Isabel's
brother, but upoti what subject never transpired It
was only known, that 'a deep personal hate, and
thirsting ler revenge, displaced in the baronet's
mind the ancestral feud which had existed so long
•L-and that in this mood he went abroad.
Twenty years after he returned to England, and
—shire, the possessor of Shirley Court ; but how
he had cantriired to obtain the transfer of all the
mortgagee to himself ; and thus get his enemy itro
his power, no one ever knew; - it must have been
the climax of a life-long system.
With circumstances of great indignity and insult,
Colonel Shirley and bis only child, a very hand
some, fiery boy of eighteen, were ejected from
their homo. They tool(refoge in a small cottage,
which, with its orchard and little farm, were all
tnat were left to them ; and there, in a few weeks
the miserable old man died, bequeathing to Regi.
nail such a debt of fearful vengeance, to be paid to
their prosperous enemy, as would have terrified
any less fiery nature than his; but which, judging
from hie manner and words, was not likely to be
!rinieleil in the reekOning
From the day of We father's death, people saw
very Rule of Reginald Shirley. He grew stem,
self dependent, and reserved ; and letting the cot
tage and farm to a stranger, 'retained only two
rooms in which he lived. He was seldom seen,
except during the shooting season, when he follow
ed, at the warm invitation of all the neighboring
gentry, his favorite sport over their lands. It was
observable to every one how carefully he avoided
approaching the court, although be .was often seen
by people at a distance gazing mournfully upon it ;
al.d mote than once or twice, was observed to
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shake his clenched hand menacingly at the house.
At least, however, something idler the fashion of
kits enemy, Reginald went soddenly abtoad,tio one
knew whither.
During ail the time of Mr. Shirley's neighbor.
hood to him, Sir Peirs bad kept state and revelry
at the coart, solely, as it seemed, to annoy and in•
cult ltim ; for no ironer was Reginald gone than
the banquets and gaieties came to an end, the es
tablishment was materially reduced, and the baro
net became once more the stem, cold, hard man,
he had formerly seemed.
ought to have said before this, that when Sir
Peirs.took possession of Shirley, all the old ser
vents were dismissed, except one, an elderly wo
man, who had been - nurse to Isabel Shirley, and
afterwards to'Reginald. Truly and faithfully this
woman,. Winifred Jones, had loved both her nurse.
lings; and, for the sake of the first,•she almost lik
ed the stem, revengeful man who had so idolized
her, and who, in reverence for her memory,
treated the guardian of her infancy with so much
indulgence and gentleness. For Isabel's sake she
forgave Sir Pelee wrongs to Reginald, whom she
loved in spite of, and because of, his connections
with his family' whose treatment of her dat ling had
caused her to detest the whole racealmost as much
as the baronet did.
Well, tor ten years Winifred and Sir Peirs lived
in almost solitary grandeur at the Court. The lat
ter had become known in the country for a cruel
arbitrary landlord ; and was consequently very un
popular among people who, under the right of ths
Sherleys, had been treated with liberality and con.
sideration, and equally so with the neighboring
gentry, who resented many of his proceedings as
an insult to their class.
Things were going on this way, when one day
Reginald,—who, during his absrcce, had grown
into a singularly handsome, gallant looking, fellow
—esaclly, as people said, the image of his poor
aunt Isabel—suddenly returned to his cottage.
No sooner was his arrival known than all . the
old friends of his family called upon him. Their
cordiality, however, received little encouragement
—for. notwithstanding Mr. Shirley received them
vri , h every courtesy, his manners were so cold and
reserved, that the warm hearted people felt as if
plunged into ice.
How he had been spending his time while
abroad, or where he had been, he did not deign to
shy , : he volunteered nothing, except the informa
tion that he came to England explesely to re pur
chase the Court, and reside there.
This startling infoiiitation, coming from a than
ivtio , was known to have been almost penniless ten
years before, puzzled the hearers strangely. Spok
en by many, the listeners would have thought it a
jest or a boast ; buy there was that in the calm, quip
et tone of Reginald's voice, which forbade the idea
that he said. anything more than- he meant, or more
than he had povier to do ; and, therefore, wonder
s'ricken, and foil of conjectures as everybody was,
they yet diorougtilY believed all they had been
told ; and ilsat somehow or other, Reginald Shirley
possessed the means and intention of reemPering
the lost lands of his race. How he would mange
it and how Sir Peirs would act, remained to be
131111
For some time, however. public curiosity seem
ed fated to remain ntisati-tied, for nothing more
was said or done by either perky, until it happened
that, about seven or eight moo . hs after his return,
one of those good-natured friends who do more
mischiel than all the enemies in the world, repeat
ed to Mr Shirley an insulting.exp ession which Sir
Peirs had used upon being told of his intention to
repurchase the Court.
The mischief maker afterwards remembered
how dark the young man's brow became, how sul
lenly his eyes flashed, and how ominously some
muttered words,, sounding like a threat, came from
between his clenched teeth as he turned wrathful•
ly away.
An hour after this interview the great door-bell
at Shirley Court rang a sudden peal, which echoed
through the silent mansion imperatively; and when
the startled lackey answered it, he found the heir
ol its former master stand ingon tho threshold,stern
ly demanding an audience ol Sir Peirs.
Scarcely allowing lime for the announcement of
his name, Reginald strode haughtily put the ser
vant who carried it, and entered unbidden the pres
ence of his enemy. For years neither had looked
upon the o her, and now each sent back the gaze
of his foe, with an intensity of hatred that was only
too visible to the frightened bystander.
Sternly and angrily the man was commanded to
`depart, and thenceforward the• stormy interview
that followed was unwitnessed. 'The deep, clear
tones of Reginald's voice were, . however, plainly
heard, both by a gardener who Was at work on the
terrace, and a housemaid who lingered in the hall.
The tone was threatening although the words wire
not distinguishable; and at length the dining-room
door was thrown widely open, and the maid, terri
fied into a corner, saw Reginald leave the dam
bet', with flashing eyes and crimsoned brow, and
heard him say, " I leave you now, but it is to keep
my oath. I have sworn that you shall hold my fa
ther's land no longer, and woe to our next meeting
if yon thwart me then.''_
This was in the evening—the evening, not the
twilight, of a bright September day. And shortly
alter Reginald's departura, Sir Peke Lynwood went
out also, having first beezti,seen by his servant to
take a roll of noteszfrom desk, and pot themin
to his pocket. About-Allier, hours later, a house
maid, in attendence upon Winifred Jones, the
nurse, hear{] al low tap upon the window of her sit
ting-room ; seal, upon it being repeated, was desir
ed by her superior to see what was the cause of it .
The moon was very bright, and upon drawing up
the blind the girl distinctly recognized Reginald
Shirley, in his usual floating dress, standing out
side. By the nurse's ordbre — she opened the low
French window, and in an instant the! late visitor
sprang in. What pused, l or what wire 'the reawn
of hi. vi t t', the girl did not know, for she was de
' PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
.° REGARDI.ESIE OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUATITEE."
sired to leave the room,:and bad only time to ob.
serve that Mr. Shirley'. manner was strange and
excited, and that, as became forward into the lamp.
light, the bosom of his shirt was spotted with blood.
Very early next morning, to the consternation of
the household, the body of Sir Peirs Lynwood, hot.
hibly disfigured by a gunshot wound in the bead,
was found Ity the side of a tall quirkset hedge in the
deer park. It had evidently been there many hours,
perhaps all night, for the clothes were saturated
with dew, and the baronet's watch, the spring of
which had somehow been broken bad stopped at
seven o'clock, thus indicating precisely the hour
at which the murder was committed.
In the ditch, with only one barrel discharged,
lay a fowling-piece ; upon its stock was a silver
shield, bearing the Shirley arms. The pockets of
the deceased were nntouched,plainly showing that
some very different motive to plunder had caused
the deed.
In few hours the terrible news bad spread like
wildfire all over th• country. The frightened set.
rants, scarcely knowing what to do, sent on mes
sengers to doctors, lawyers, and friends innurners.
ble, so that before night-fall hosts of unnecessary
people, from all quarters, were gathered together
at the Court.
For some time, of course the visitors did nothing
but get into each other's way—talk, wonder, and
impede everything in the shape of business ; but
at last Sir Peir's confidential solicitor arrived, and
the confusion was speedily reduced to order. The
supernumerary attendants were dismissed, the cor
oner and his jury summoned, and the events of the
last twenty tour hours laid before them.
For the result of the investigation every one was
prepared. Combining all the circumstances, the
ancient tend between the Shiileys and Lynwood.,
the deep personal hate of the present chiefs, their
recent stormy interview, followed so closely by the
death of the elder, the singnlar language and blood
stained dress of the younger, all pointed him out as
the assassin. Long before the jury met, their ver
dict was foreseen, and when the coronet's warrant
for the apprehension of Reginald Shirley was is.
sued, it seemed but the expression , of the general
feeling.
Little as the deceased had been respected, and
unpopular as his tyrantcal conduct had been, every
man felt outraged by the felon act which had slain
him; and at the next assizes, laden with the acorn
ar.d indignatiiin of the whole country, Reginald
Shirley stood arraigned for the murder of his en
emy.
As you may suppose, the heniousness of the
crime, and the position of the accused and his vic
tim, attracted hundreds to the trial ; and the court,
as soon as it was opened, was crowded, every eye
eagerly used upon the dock.
At length, cne or two less important cases being
disposed of, Reginald Shirley 'was placed at the
bar.
He was very pale, but his bearing was undaunt•
ed ; his eyes never tank, hie color never deepened
as the buzz which attended his appearance struck
upon his ear. Whatever he might suffer, he had
nerved himself to endure all without flinching, or
giving a sign. Very different were the impressions
made by his,manner upon the minds ni those who
watched ; many thought his calm self possession
positive f rool of , innocence ; but others, myself
among them, looked upon it as evidence of a hard,
malignant nature, calm because its revenge and
hatred were satisfied.
In a clear, sonorous, and unfaltering voice, he
pleaded " not guilty" to the indictment; and that
done, the trial proceeded.
The evidence against him was very strong and
complete; scarcely a lank was wanting; never in
deed, in my whole practice ; have I seen a ease of
circumstantial evidence so clear.
First appeared the footman who had admitted
the accused into the presence of Sir Pairs—he prov
ed his visit ; then the housemaid, who had over
heard them, his parting words of threat and men•
ace. The people at the cottage where he lived,
deposed to the landlord's return front Shirley Court
in a sta'e of excitement ; and that, after remaining
alone in his room a few minutes, he went out
again, carrying his gun; they also testified to his
coming in abont ten o'clock, without his gun, and
with a shirt the front and wristbands of which were
much stained with blood, His manner upon this
occasion was silent and abrupt, and he accounted
for the stains upon hilt dress by saying that an ac
eidental blow upon his mouth, from the bough of
a tree, agrkinst which he had inadvertently came in
contact in the wood, had caused it to bleed pro
fusely..
The story of Winifred Jones, who came next,cor•
roborated ; further declared that she had supplied
Mr. Shirley herself with warm water to bathe his
month, and that he left his blood-stained pocket
handkerchief with her. Of the reason for his visit
at so strange an hear t and why it was accomplish•
ed in so extraordinary a manner, she said little,
except that it was wtolly unconnected with any
mat'er now in question, having reference only to
Mr. Shirley's own family. In conclusion, the old
woman uttered a solemn declaration of her belief
in Reginald's innocence. And then for the first
time, his color came and went ; his dark eye bright
ened, and his chiselled lips parted with a most
beautiful smile, whiCh. from the contrast with his
previous gloom, found its way to the hearts of all
beholders.
That smile I recollect made me feel very un
comfortable ; for it awoke in my . mind the first
doubt I had ever entertained, or heard others en
tertein, of the p isoner's guilt; and told unmistaka
bly that, however implicated in this terrible crime,
Reginald Shirley was neither the hard nor the bad
man he had been thought.
Alter Winifred's testimony, came the last and
most important, the evidence of a game keeper,
who testified to passing Sir Peire and Mr. Shirley
in the Home Park about sundown. The angry
tones of both of their voices caused him to pan
hem elcmiy and linger on his way; for, knowing
the ill•blood that had always existed between, the
families, and these members in particular, he was
fearful that some mischief might ensue, especially
as he otserved that Mr. Shirley hal his gun, and
Sir Peirs his usual heavy stick. " I could not be
mistaken," he said, in answer to a question from
the Judge, tl for they stood on a plain bit of the
Park, a good way off from the trees, and there was
nothing to shade them. The path I was on went
close up to where they were, and as I touched my
hat, first to my master and then to Mr. Shirley, I
looked hard at them both and noticed that Mr. &lir.
ley had on his shooting-dress. I have known the
prisoner all his life. I used 'to be underkeeper to
his father."
This closed the case for the prosecution; and
then the prisoner—in those days prisoners were not
allowed counsel—commenced his defence. It was
short but manly and candid.. With a burst ol elo
quent indignation, he repudiated the charge bro't
against him, solemnly declaring that from the hour
of prating with Sir Pears in his own house, to the
present, he bad never seen him. That the last in
terview was stormy and painful, he frankly ac
knowledged ; since, not content with refusing his
proposal to re-purchase hie paternal lands at any
price, in the most insulting terms, Sir Peirs antler
ed himself, in the heat ol his passion, to make cer
tain assertions relative to a deceased member of
the Shirley family, which exasperated his visitor
almost to madness. It was to obtain a contradiction
ol these assertions that he had sought his old nurse
—the depository of the family secrets at the nuns
pal hour he had done. And it was while on his
way to her, while plunging on recklessly through
the wood nearest the Ware, so absorbed in anxie
ty, wrath and indignation, as to be unconscious
where he was going, drat he met with the accident
that deluged him iultisi l own blond.
The parting words, of which *o much had been
made, were spoken in answer to Sir Petr's reiter
ated and taunting refusal to sell Shitley, and were
uttered in the rage of the moment, without any
deeper meaning than to assure the baronet of Lit.
vteitor's unalterable determination to succeed in his
DO
How the gun, which had been left with bo.h bar
rels loaded, in a keeper's hut at the Home Patk,
came where ►t was found, he could not tell ; and
that the man who had sworn to having seen him
in the Park with Sir Peirs, was mistaken in his
identity, he solemnly asserted, repeating once more
in the most impressive and positive language, his
asservation of never seeing the deceased after the
time he left the house.
All th's was said temperately, but firmly and
frankly ; more as if it were spoken as a duly to
himself, than with any expectation of its being
either effectual for art acquittal, or generally be
lieved by the court.
After the conclusion of the defence, a juryman
begged that the keeper who had deposed to havi'.g
seen the prisoner and deceased together, should be
recalled, and asked again if he was perfectly con
vinced of the identity of the former.
"Perfectly," he raid, with a sorrowful voice,
which left no doubt upon the minds of any who
heard him or the truth of his statement ; " if they
were the last words I had to speak on earth, and
God was here to judge me, I could safely swear
that Mr. Shirley was the-man 1 eaw with my mas
ter that night."
After such evidence as this, the conviction of the
prisoner was certain, and in a few minutes he left
the bar, condemned to die for the murder of Sir
Peirs Lynwood.
It was Friday night when the long trial closed,
and when it was over ; f, and every one else, left
the court. The prisoner wad to be hanged on Mon•
day.
As might be expected, little else beside the trial
of Reginald Shirley was talked of in the town ; at
the assize ball it was the one subject of converse
Lion, and, with very few exceptions, everybody
applauded the verdict, add looked upon the con
demned man as a cold-blooded, infamous assassinti
who thoroughly merited the late which had over
taken him.
Not a low ridiculed the idea of his having the
means to re-purchase Shirley ; and in their over
flowing di=pleasure, 1 do believe that they were
rather disappointed that theft had not been added
to the crime ; and that they could not call him
robber, as well as murderer.
His condurt, too, -During the time of his confine•
ment in goal, previous to the trial, had given peo
ple great offence; it had been so proud, stern, and
iesetved ; and now that he was condemned, his
manner remained the same.
Well, Satellay, and part of Sunday, passed ; and
upon Sunday afternoon I went toe tend two or three
days with my brother, the rector oft a sea coast
village, about five and-twenty miles from the as
size town.
It was a stormy evesrmg, rind towards midnight
the wind blew a hurricane dead upon shore. My
brother and I had not met for many months, and
were sitting up talking over family concerns, when
the Sound of guns out at sea caused usto rush from
the house, and hurry to thebeach. It was an awful
night; and through the dim haze we could see a
great ship beating with the waves, evidently dig
misted, and in distress. To send her help was
impossible, no boat could have lived in such a sea;
and although we offered large sums of money to
volunteers, and the brave men amend us were as
anxious to render assistance u ourselves, none
dared rush upon the certain depth which must have
befallen any who ventured out. Still, although 100
well convinced of this, it was ,rnadderting to bear
the solemn appeal of the guns; and know that those
wbo fired!them were praying in agony for our help :
to know that' within so short a distance hundreds of
human beings were perishing, and that there we
stood, strong, powerful, willing men, with ample
means at hand to succor, and yet unable to exert a
single muscle. It was horrible; but at length a
great ory was raised that the vessel had gone down,
and, in a few minutes, tossed on the boiling wares,
M==
we dimly saw small object., wbfcb we kneW to bs
human bodies, coming towards us.
One, thrown by the sea high up on the shills
beside us, waaseized upon by my brother and my
self, and carried to his house. Those we had telt
there, expecting such guests, had got all relit!) , to
receive them; and we found a huge firs and hot
blankets, with all needful aide to recovery, prepar
ed for immediate use.
Quickly then we laid the apparently deal body
before the tire, and never shall I forget the' sensa
tion or astonishment almost of terror, with which
my eyes fell upon the lifeless (ace. It was Regi
nald Shirley, the conderneetimurderer, whom la
the would believed to be then lying in—goal,
waiting for execution the next morning.
In a few words I communicated the fact to my
brother, who, although infinitely shocked, yet did
not relax his exertions to restore life; and after a
little time forgetting the men's guilt in his present
extremity, and unwilling that he should die thus
unprepared, I too joined eamestly ; in my good broth•
er's efforts, which, sooner than might h,ve been
expected, were successful; and then, anxious to
assist the villagers in recovering any other bodies
that might be thrown on shore, I went back to the
beach.
I had been there about two hours, when a ser
vant from the rectory, almost exhausted with run
ning came op to me, and bade me harry back there
instantly, " and M. Warden : too," he said breath
lessly, ".must go u well:, where is he?—where
shall I find him r'
" Here," I said as the gentleman named, one of
the most active magistrates of the district, came up;
" here he is. But what is the maser 7"
" I don't know.; but master's in a terrible way ;
so go, sir—go directly !"
Thus urged, and remembering ii whose com
pany I had lett my brother, I ran on qniekly, ac
companioid by Mr. ‘Vaiden, who, undoubtedly,
wondered, knowing nothing, whether I had taken
leave of my senses.
As we reachedihe li : mse", a post chaise dashed
past us, and standing al the rectory door, watching
eagerly for our coming was my brother.
" Thank GO you are here !" he said, seizing
Mr W arden's arm. " Come with me—do not lose
a moment."
And turning back into the house, he led us
quickly to ihe room where 1 had left him with Re
ginald Shirley.
What I had expected to see I do not know; but
what I did see, was Mr Shirley lying upon the
very spot upon which I had helped to place him.
and the village surgeon kneeling by his side.
His eyes were open, and he 'was evidently sen
sible, and aware of all that was passing; tut over
his countenance was that leartul gray shade which
never lingers long 'upon the face of the living, and
which warned us that death was at hand. Vilna
our entrance an expression of intense relief and
stuislaction crossed his features, and ; in a faint
voice, he said :
" I am glad you are COMP ; but make haste, 1
am coin; rapt—raise me up "
" Yes, but take thi. draught first," said the por
geon ;lon require it. Now, Mr. Heydon, you may
proceed "
r• Very well. Then, Mr. Warden, the object of
my rending for you thus unceremoninu.dy it., that
you might receive the confession, and take the de
position of this person. lie is perfectly aware of
his state, Mr. Grant r he covinued, addressing the
surgenn
" Perfectly. I dare hold nut no bor."
" No, I feel that I am lying ; therefore lose no
time. I have a terrible tale to tell ; and would not
go before it is finished."
" I am ready."
"Then listen. My name Piers Shirley, son
of the late Sir Pere Lynwood and Isabel Shirley
rth ! sir, you may start," said the man, observing
the movement of astonishment which I could not
repress. " Mine is a fearful story, but conceal
went would be useless, and you shall hear all the
truth now. My mother died at my birth, and, by
a favorite servant whom she trusted, I was convey
ed immediately to Sir Nits, who, as liad been pre
viously arranged, sent me under the care of a ftith•
ful person, to France, where I was brotight np. un
til age of fifteen, when 1 came to England, arid
was placed at school in London. There I remain
ed three years, and then, still believing myself to
be an orphan, and that Sir Piers Lynwood, whom I
never saw, was simply my guardian, I was articled
to a lawyer. Neither the profession, nor the res.
'train', however, suited me. I formed idle and bad
Connections, got into debt, and, at last, at the age
of twenty.one, owed so much that my ered.-r
-shortly afterwards arrested and threw me into pris
on.
"Sir Piers was sent for by my master, and
coming up to town, paid the money, and set me
free. Upon this occassion I saw him for the first
time ; and from his manner, arid the singntar Inn•
guage he used, suspected the truth, and that ; in
stead of being only his ward, 'was his son. The
suspicion enraged me, and to violent and most un-
becoming terms,l demanded from him whether
my fears were justified.
" In equally passionate words, upbraiding me
for my extravagance, idleness and excesses, Sir
Piers acknowledged the relationship; but conclud
. ed by threatening to cast me oil at once , and forev
er, unless I relinquished my evil courses, and ap
plied myself steadily io any profession.
"This I refused to do, and after a shameful
scene, we parted ; Sir Piers forbidding me ever
again to apply to him for assistance or even attempt
to see him; and I, insolent and boastful, Lamina
him with his sins towards me, cud (mating in my
freedom.
" A fearlul time of sin and not followed this nip
ture,lrom bad I grew to worse, until at thirty years
of age—and I am little more—l had not one repo
table friend, a profession, or a shilling left. Well,
about twelve months since I fell in lose with a girl,
who if over angels ritit ibis miserable erothi, was
ME
=
MMMIE 11&•
one tome; and title promlsed to marry me, repro•
bate as I was, it I would do as my father bad urged
me ten years before—break off my godly ways,
and going abroad, strive to establish a new ebarac•
let and honorable name.
" Gladly I pledged myself to obey her wishes,
for in her society I had teamed to be ashamed of
the life I had led, and longed to retrace it. But to
go abroad reputably required money, and' I bad
none : therefhre, after long debating with myself I
resolved to apply to Sir Piers—with whom I had
no communication since that interview which had
ended so disastmusly—in toll him my hopes and
projects, and to implore his aid to accomplish
them.
Whether my letter was less hutiable and con.
trite than it should have been, T do not know—per.
haps it was, for I am an ill-hand at acting for favors ;
but Sir Pelts answered it in so called and insultier,
a strain, that I cast his epistle into the fire which
burned beside me, and set to work to try and raise
means to mar!) , Jessie, and go to Canada. But,las
I might have foreseen, every effort failed ; and then
Jessie entreated me to give her up, and go abroad
alone. Thia, of course, I would not do; and, in
despair, I wrote. again to my father, humbling my
self to the very Limit for my sweet Jessie's sake ; in
forming him that I would be at a certain spot in
Shirley Park at six o'clock on the following even•
ing, where I entreated him, by the memory of my
mother to see me.
" I went; but learning atihe village that the laws
against poaching and trespass were strictly enlorc•
ed upon the Shirley estates, and fefting that my
dress might attract attention it I was seen by the
keepers, I changed my clothes in a deer hovel in
the park for a suit of keepers' garments which I
found there; and shouldering a gun which was
there also, I went out, satisfied that if I wasobserv
ed I should be mistaken for a keeper, and suffered
to pass unchallenged. When I reaetied the ap
pointed piece Ito one was there, bu' at length I des
cribed Sir Peirs coming towards me through the
wood. I went to meet him, and certainly none but
a man who was mad himself, or wished to make
so, would have said what he did,or treated me so
severely.
" For a while I hore all patient!, bat at last
human na•ure would endure no more, and I re
plied. I forgot all duty, all prudence; and in my
rage, gave back for every shameful,word and taun
another as bitter and, esti
" At length he raised his stick to strike me—and,
in a moment, never heeding what I did, or what it
was I lilted, I enterposed the gun I held, to ward
nfl the impending blow. which fell upon the trig
ger, struck it back, and in an instant, to my on
Ppeaka bk. horror, Isaac ,c . v father dead at my feet.
To fly was the impulse of the moment, and after
ascertaining that life indeed was extinct, and that
nothing could be done, I east down the fatal wea
pon, turned back to the hovel white I had left my
own clothes, changed ihose I wore for them, and,
crosssing, the country in aH has..o, reached—,
where I got on a London coach.
" Immedia'ely upon arriving in town I wrote a
farewell letter to Jeanie; blood stained as I was I
could not endure to meet her ; and therefore simply
telling her that circumstances had occurred which
-must part us forever, I bade her forget me and be
happy. 1,
" What would happen at Shirley when the body
was di-covered I dare not think ; but what did hap
pen never entered my thoughts. I never dreamed
that any one would suffer for my .silence, and
therefore I maintained it. What I should hay,
done had I known the truth, I dare not say, fur life
is dear to all ; and, .as I could not More prayed
that my lather brought on his' own death, and
should have feared to die for it, I might not per
haps, have come forward and exonerated Mr. Shir
ley as I ought. However, I was spared the trial
of principle, for the day atter I reached London I
was seized with typhus fever, and lot weeks 1 lay
insenrible to everything between life and death
" When I recovered, I resolved to go abroad ;
and, learning that a creditor was seeking me with
threat of arrest, I got on board the ship which was
lostio-night, ;wending to work my way to Canada.
Sire sailed five days since, and this morning from
an old new , paper which fell in my way, I learned
for the first time all that had ta k en place lately at
Shirley—that the son of my mother's brother had
been committed to jail upon suspicions of having
murdered Sir Peirs and he was to be tried for
I te creme
"That he would be cottKictexl seemed to be tak
en for granted, and the shock I received when
read the whole awful story, and learned the peril
-I an innocent man, by my silence, standiti.g in
j.'oparfy of his life, broughton one of those violent
attacks which I have been subject since my ill
ness, and from which I had not recovered when
the ship went down, and I was elm on the shore.
" Now, gentlemen, you have heard all, and I
implore you, by your own hopes of salvation, to
love no time in conveying my confession to —.
I have been spared from the waves, to save my
causin from a felon's death, and I entreat you to
whose hands his late now lies, not to endanger it
by delay."
Although I have given you the man's confession
continuously, you must not suppose he spoke it so,
No ; it was often interrupted by pain, or stopped,
by faintness.; and when at last it was concluded,
he had barely streng'h left to sign i..
Now, then," said my brother anxiimply, when
all was-July signed and witnessed, " there is not a
moment to lose. You have five and twenty miles
to go, and it is near dayt4reak already. I muttt re.
main here to attend this unhappy man's death bed,
and give him such comfort as I dare; but you, Ed
ward, and Mr. Warden, mum go ; and this confer.
%ion, corroborated by your testimony, will be suffi
cient to delay the execution until the matter can be
placed bettors Mei proper adtholities. I need rat
urge you to speed as for life, for ‘ more than .ordins.
I life—fame, honor, and the pmervation. from a
1 4 k arnefu: death—clopend upon' your rimed. Cos
ESTE
II