El
Pirrt Or;alr.
Fin Putnath's Monthly' M ngnltino
DOGGED BY SIN. •
A TatTi;
It might be questioned whether. fiction,
with all its extensive command of : means to
stir the soul and to fix it in breathless ab
straction upon its verisimilitudes that are
`Mier' than the truth, and with affits.large
range of action, so much larger 'ill:an the
truth's insomuch as the ideal outstretches the
real—whether, with all this illimitability of
power and domain, it is superior to the truth
in its impressions and efficiency. In fictirin
we thread ivi . th strained and anxious sense
the mazes of artful plots, Start and wonder
it strange coincidences, revel in sympathy in
ardent passions, luxuriate in the sweet rich
..less of Elysian happiness; hut through all
is diffused a cooling sense of'airy unreality,
;IA as accompanies our own day-dreams.—
And always the warmer glows aut. sympathy
he nearer the tale approaches to known
truth ; the more it assumes the eharacter of
idevelopment of one of Nature's great laws,
or the more-the parts begin to ,Liam them
elves into a fhint image-of some scene in
•mr life's histo*ry. But when in I . act itsell,the
hands of Providence silently work out, with
ill the preciseness and unity of a well-tho't
noel, one of those 'wonderful sequcnees Ii at
wined to us possible only in romance, we
are startled as if we meet embodied in
sdpable maffer the varied phantasms of our
deep.
The following- story is an example of the
, tyerntina of -one-of -those -heti vy--dooml4 I hot
bong over sin, wrought out ti) a COMpl.'l , opss
pu this side 'the veil: which novelists hove
somi.times made the plan of their most pow
erful romances. speakin7 the voice of Nature
with more than Nature's forcihh.ness. Here
Naturehas, for once at least, loudly and
clearly declared herself, and :her own great
voice strikes us with g,reater awe than tO
smaller tones of her half-guessing interim!:
ters.
The chief personages of the story are, so
far as known, men in the lower west•
ern corner of Maine, and the near p,wtion of
New Hampshire, and woultl wonder to see
detailed by an unknown hand a passage in
their life over which memory broods in sad-
ITM
Some fifty yetirS ago - , there lived in a town
in the south-east corner of New Ifampshire
a young Ineehanie, just beginning to earn
his own subsistence, and promising. through
wise frugality and , strict fidelity, to accom
plish this easily, and Illy in; tore enough fot:
he old age and bequests to his children. Ile
was of instinctive good manners, frank in
his communications with society. kind and
sympathizing in' his feelings. In form he
was tall and symmeirical ; his fbatures finely
cut, of a soft, dark hue ; his eyes blackatA
sparkling, deep sett- under a high forehead,
upon the arch of which strayed curls of rich
chestnut hair. His was just that appearance
that suits the word man. He had been but
a short time in the village before I n - began
to — itiNet . the attention of the gentlt r
The more they grew to know him the strong
er became their liking to him. With the
old women he was the sum of all the virtues,
and with the maidens the object of ninny a
so . 4 . - m ---- altd--warm ---- desire. There-w:
many a bright eye peeping round the inside
window frame as he '.passed to and f rom hi s
labor. and many a glance at church, that
ought to have turned to the prelkeher, shot
aslant to the voting mechanic. In the cowl
of a summer's eve the voices whose hum
came through thr open doors and windows,
were Ittit nolregnently the old women's,
ehautingAlte_praises
.of ,lantes_At lt . ood_;' and
to these the hearts if not the tongues of the
listening maidenq ehimed - 41 tuneful aecord7
anee.
:One.morning , Mr/ Gilder, one of a firm of
jewelers of the town, found on
,opening his
-store that the 'door had been forced and a
quantity of jewelry, in value from thur to five
hundred doliars, had been carried oft Strict
inquiries were made, but no trace of the
thief could be fatted. Certain ',small inci
dents led Mr.' Gilder to fix his suspicions on
James Atwood. lie, with others, had always
held James in good esteem, and lie had not
of course escaped the. iavaable influence
that the,strong siding of the gentler half of
laid had upon the -steraorAc i x;
, Yl7 ,
but from causes that to others mightseem
worthless, and even to himself, on strict re
flection, of uncertain weight, told from a feel
ing (,)f assurance, as if he were on the right
track, Mr. Gilder began to entertain gloomily
doubts of the integrity and honorable deal
ing of the young mechanic. The expression
of these doubts on "al, or two ocen:donsset
silent, though Mine,the less there brOoded in
his , mind these'dark suspicions that scowled
heavily at James Atwood.
Thus things stootl forsome months. .One
morning there was a stir in the village, and
a running from .house to - house. A horse
had been stolen front the hoitSe where James
Atwood boarded, and James himself 'was
missing. This tbne the;.e was sin all room
Ibr doubt.. Indig,nant house-wiles now open :
ed„restless hatteriesrof invective against the
double-faced hypnerite ; and the reluctant
heart of the maiden was forced to banish
from the pure shrine of its affection the lin
age.of a fugitive horse-thief. On hearing of
this occurrence,,Mr. determined to
pursue some course by which Ire might bring
the thief to justice: On talking with the
owner of the horse, and considering the long
start the thief had, even if he were certain
of his track, he thought it best to wait and
decide his plan according to circumstances
that alight transpire. The man whom James
lived with told him that the young man had
left all Ida clothes in his room, and it seem
ed not unlikely that James would steal !lack
some night to.recover them. If be does,'
said Mr. Gilder, ' whether it is candle-light,
at midnight, or in'the morning. I want you
to call me, and I will follow him.'
cit.% i"rcit sEcosir
One spring morning in the early part of
Yareh, lon! ., before daylight, the Jeweler
heard a loud rap at his door. On opening
the window he found he owner of the horse
1,1,, w , w ith the news that James had been at
his hOuse ,luring the night and gone off, tak
in.: his clothes with him.' Little delay made
the jeweler in dressing hin,elf and harness
- - - - -
his horse.
'EI, roads were just hare and the mnd
rand foot deep: The fiiotsteps of the flying
man were plainly to he seen, but they were
all oh the side of the road, where the grass
and ice ninthe firm looting, while the horse
intuit go in the iniddle of the way. 'Through
the whole day Mt'. Gilder followed the traelis
without catching a glimpse of his man.—
ith difficulty did his horse plod twelve miles
l‘during the hours of - daylight. At last, just
at night-fall, he came to a man building toner
tly the side of the road. Stopping.his horse
! he addressed him:,
Have you seen n fiiotitraveler along this
way, Sir?'
Yes, Sir ; there is one in the house now,
eating., a howl of bread and milk,' was the
an,wer
The jeweler disnmunted and stepped to the
door, and openjirg- ii—there w4nolpotch to
house—his eve fell on James Atwotal:L=
At die moment of recognition James sprang
from his chair, and, seizing ac stick that lay
bis side, made ('.n• the door. The jeweler
sprang- at him as he approath4. --- crarded off
the blow that James aimed at him, and, seiz
ing him Lv the collar, with the exertion of
all his strength, brought him to the floor up
on hi back:, Then. jumping upon his breast
and planting his knees_upon his chest, with
both hands he grasped his thrOat and throt
tled him. Not a word passed between them,
but they lay glaring into each other's eves,.
At the noise of die sc•ufile, the old woman
of the house came running,' in, with both her
hands clasped tight before her, and her eyes
bigger than nature ever made them.
' What: on is the matter? What' on
airth is the matter?` -- eATlniined she.
IVhaf are iou doing Own) Sir'? growled
the old man from the other door.
' Don't be alarmed, my good people,' ans
wered the jeweler ; •it is only a lowse-thief I
have caught.' .
' Oh! u horse-thief!' said the Ohl Nv o ,
l i lti ng down her hands, and !ptting in her
eves with a sigh. glad' you got
hint. then.'
' If it's a horse-thief;' said . the old man, '1
linythia,g to dO with
Means Were taken to Secure the captive for
the night. "Tn the morning the jeweler was
:it a loss bow to carry the criminal safely
home. After a little meditation he cut the
Tieing. that tightened the waist-band of the
young man's trdwsers above his hipsorna iha
those days supplied the place of suspenders.
Thus letting down the pantaloons hallow his
feet, be seated him on his horse, sure, tinit if
.lameS got oil'-the horse and tried to.run he
would find himself like a fly in molasses or
like 'piss in boots.' No trouble occurred on
the journey. James resigned himself with
all the passiveUess uf.sia im•despair.2•-•—,-
At the next session of the - Criminill
James Atwood wlis - found guilty on two in
iettnents—for horse-stealing and inu•glary.—
Iu those days the penal code of New Eng
land generally retained dint harshness and
inequality of punishment which it had deriv
ed from England, and which till very lately
wits a lart of the judieal system of tlmlatter
service as a marine. There watf,no chance_
for theproSectitors to avail themselves of the
latter alternative,: and when thefftmight.of
the youth'ot the accused, and looked at his
manly features, they could not bring them
selves. to scorch in his broW the stigma of
crime, which like a cancerous spot must al :
• ways be eating.in•and consuming the high
ambitions and.atrong 'hopes of kigormisi Man
hood, anti mar to nil observers the pleasing.
handiwork of nature. The two accusers
agreed to release the young rosin on condi
tion that • he would give them each a bond to
pay them SUMS of money as be was able, un
til a certain amount was completed. Txtthis
the condemned - assented. eager at any risk
to escape the hard fates of servitude or brand
ing, which the 14w threatened him with ; and
only too joyful evade the necessity of seek
ing-the better of two such hopeless prospeets,.
on terms so easy and so flattering to his self
pride.
Alas 1 for James . Atwood .the day that he
1)01111(1 himself to pay in silver the losses and
penalty of his sin! Ile thought his/Whole
crime lay betweetc man and man ; and when
mutual agreements had quieted the difference
between him and his prosecutors, then all
things were reinstated. lie firgot, the offend
ed majesty of Nature, who offers but one
way of pacification. The Nemesis, in In r
inexerable justice, was , to be satisfied by
complete sel fabasement alone. Well for him
if he had utterly subjeeted hints6lf in- self,
contempt and lowliness, till he felt a warm
glow of. saddened e(Mtentment growing up
in his heart, Natni•e's pledge that she was
satisfied, aitil not - ttliitik that by the stteri•
lien of tho_mere good of this world be could
h o ld to the dignity of it manhood he had dis
honored ; that he could salve a 'wounded sov
ereignty with dollaTs, and ward off the iron
blow of the stern (luardian of the moral laws
by the heeding straw of human adjustments.
Ifear the re sA of his history, and see how the
Nemesis repaid ou lihn at lust the penalty of
his sin a double portion in her aggrieved
vengeance. .
SOon after agreeing to the terms of his re
lease James Nyent to Boston and began his
business there. His affairS soon prospered,
and, his'old hopes and imaginings stole baek
into hint. The sin of an impulsive and
ti sightless youth buried in the dust, be would
begin tbeteon u, build the structure of his
stren.oth and beauty. He did not think
the dead might ,turn in its grave with super-
human siength and shake to ruins the fair
building over it.
For two or three years things tilent on qni,
etly, and with his . increasing..4ibility to ap
pear in neat habit anal in respectable rela
tions in society greW his hopefulness and self
assurance. At leis employment lie stood
among ids felliw-workmen as an equal, and
his faithfulness and zeal made tht:in look-up
on hint with more than mere indifferent tol
erance. He came by degress to assume the
•
superiority that lay implied in all their de
meanor toward him: La the world outsidt , ,
when each threaded among the mass toward
his own ptTeuliar tTlis, he went with the oth
ers, zi single self among-flit! thousands, treat
ed with the forlaamnee and careless courte
sy that the unknown, self-wrapped passers
yield to a similar alienate mystery that stalks .
in living body by them. Thus greW up a
dignity of thought and feeling of selfsulli
licT to
MOM
cient power within him which ;ongs
healthful manhood, and is the stimulating
principle of titreihle action, the foundation
that supports all hope and contentedness. ''''::-
Ono day as.he was passing through the
streets, a form went by unnoticed like many
othqN, and James was going. to his way in
his own thought, when a voice sounded in
his ears that set his knees trembling under
him, and drew a Curtain like night across
1, 1
his eyes. It seemed to him like a voice call
ing awn out of 'his past years, full of boding
to him:
. ,
'James Atwood 3ames Atwood! where
are you going so fist?'
lie needed but to turn to see what he felt,
the presence of the.jeweler beside
'Well, my hoy, you are finely drWed up,
ain't you ? \here did you get this smooth
ibtwiy coat, this dainty umbrella, and the
watch that-I suppose hanging . II•om the end
of this chain ?,/ifaven't forgot some jewelry
of mine you tuttle acquaintance with once,
have you'? Come, 11l tak6 these things, and
any money, too,, if you have the article.
litrw,Jdut, according to agreement, the
.tdothes ottgat. tole thrown in
According to agreement he had no right"
to claim a Single thing in this way. But
Jaines IN: as amazed and bewildered, and felt
himself in the jeweler's power. Ire gave him
his pocketbook and umbrella, but he held
the watch close in his hand. •
' Come, come, give us the wsitch. 'A•horsw-.
.
tat:lls3le ijcitilb
Cli APT It Tillitt)
esi men can hardly do that:
'lt-is my brother's, Sir, and I cannot give
it
Oive it away I hal hal - You 'owe it to
•me, man. 'Let me have it, I say. If you
want it again, why just leave twenty dollars
at my hotel, and_l will leave the watch for
you.
Thus they separated. What black, crush
ing incubus lity on Jam es
. Atwood's heart
none but the doomed can tell. The young
dawning brightness that was just cheerfully
lighting.up his inner being was swallowed up
in a black night. Two heavy bands seemed
pressing in the walls of his brain, and he
cared not if they fell inward.
The next day the jeweler found twenty
dollars at the office of the left in lieu
of the watch.
The jeweler returned home congratulating
himself with his shrewdness and his success.
He had made a journey to Boston and back
and made money by it. The purse he had
expected to empty had grown fuller; a thin'g
that did not happen often short of fairy
land.
CHAPTER
Time went on. Da and even yeamas
they came and went found'the jeweler seated
before bis shop window, prying with goggled
eve into the yellow machinery of a watch,
and with shining steel tool in his hand pick
ing among its dainty bands and wheels, and
so they left him. The dust was gathering on
his upper shelves on old yellow-looking sil
ver castaways ; in white begrimed cases brass
wheels were,,sta rim* through glass faces down,
upon the customers, and half-legged or head ,
less images standing in noble defiance tl2ro'
the minute fall of dust that was constantly
-hovering upon them. The jeweler himself
was growing more crooked, and the events
of his y(mth seemed to him like pictures
Ahrongh a mist. Old familiar faces would
cimi'e at stated !mars in the day and, resfing
on the door to his sanctum 11 the end of the
counter, tel gossip just - as they hail done
tier years, and the jeweler would answer them
with one eye shut and the other squinting
throtigh 4 3. microscope.
One trity a man came in with an umbrella
in his hand and a great-coat on, though 'twits
neither cold nor raining. lie looked over
the railing into the jeweler's coop, and
sei
ing the jeweler there over a watch,
llolloa 1 neighbor Gilder,' he bawled,
how are-you to-day ?',
Hallon! halloa! neighbor Smith, when
did you come from down East ?'
Ana so they went on,asking and re-asking,
till the whole list of acquaintance on each
side and the remarkable ) events in each town
were ran through.
' Gne thing, though, IVrgot to tell you.'
said Mr. Smith, laughing, after they were
through with all there was to ten, and lie
etmld think Of'nothing more, 'our neighbor
had an inereaml the night beftwe I ea tne
away; Dyaeon Stone's daughter presented
her husband with a little music-box in a Han.
nel wra'pper.'
'Deacon Stunels danghter ? Whom did
she marry?' said Mr. Gilder.
'Oh I I tbrgot. You had a little •interest
there your younger days, didn't yott,Z---
Why, she married a young fellow that came
down our way. Fine fellow he was, too'.-4--
Deacon Stone tot;k to him and set
him up in business. Mary didn't think that
was reward enough for his merits and good
looks, and so she give him herself. His
name is Atwood—.lames Atwood.'
'James Atwood!' said the
,jr«•eler, ns if
nuisiu ; '
.Tholes Al:wood ! \Viten do you go
Stilithl Perhaps Fll go
with you.
'ln two or three days. What's started you
so
Oh I nothing. It seems to m9e• as if I
should like to see the old place.'
Would that he had wanted to see nothing
morel
Tim first thing the jeweler did - on arriving
'down east' was to ask the tavern-keeper
where James Atwood lived. _lt was quite
late in the evening, and the landlord told
him that the very man had just gone Out of
the bar-romn, and it . Mr. gilder would wait
till morning be would be sure to find him at
the house. Mi. gilder concluded to wait,
soon alter 'went to rest the night.
In the morning, as - lie twaS standing 6n the
platform in front of the tavern, the landlord
came out, and pointing Ihim to a Man that
stood.a little distance off, told him that was
Mr. Atwood. The mint was stlinding with
his back to Mi. girder; and the latter wits ,
dose upon him before lie spoke,satufbade
him good-morning.' The loan turned and
politely'L-answered the greeting, but with a
look ,ot_wsinder -and . -
Pon't you know . me, J mes ? lam II)
the man's face, and he fell to the ground as
if a heavy blow struck him. Mr. Gilder was
alarmed
' Don't be afraid, James, I won't,hurt you.
Be a man and get IV
`For God's sake, Mr. Gilder, what do you
come hunting me up foir? If ; have any ,
mercy for me, any syMptithy with a husband
and father, keep this miserable secret quiet.
I_ will' give you all you can ask ; my store
with its goods is free to you ; all that you can
take without exposing me is yours iryou will
only go off and leave me alone.'
Mr. Gilder was avaricious, but, somehow
or other, he didn't feel like, taking all James
offered him. If James would make him up
about a hundred dollars in money and goods
be would be satisfied.
In a day or two all was arranged, and Mr.
Gilder departed for home. The stage he rode
in was heavy with his luggage ; • He could
hear parcels jumping on the stage-top, feel it
swaying the stage trim behind, and his fing
er ends in his pockets could feel the'swelling
in his •pocket•book. But this feeling and
hearing made him sort of uneasy; he had
rather beat with his fingers on the elbow
. est, and look ,out of the window at the land
scape. He didn't see but he had a right-to
the property ; there was the agreement be
tween him and James Atwood in his breast
pocket. where was written in as plain terms
as a lawyer. could write 'it, the promise of
James Atwood to pity him certain sums of
money, with James Atwood's PWri name un
derneath in his own baud-writing. And had
he not let it run on for a long ain't! without
being so strict as the law allowed him to be?
And then, when he applied to James Atwood
hadn't he let film pay ic goods what the law
said was to In. wholly paid in . money, and
that: too, without taking all the law allowed
him? lie didn't It now why he should feel
we uneasy, when there was so little to blame
himself about. For all his reasoning the
thought.-and more still, the feeling of his
baggage made him fidgety. Ile was expe
rienving, what too many experience without
profit, that 'the law and the conscience are
not always the same ; that a principle of gen
erosity and broadheartedness enters into the
justice of the natural constitution; that that
,gross material system of human judicatory
could never bold in its artificial syntheses;
that the human soul with its lows wits framed
long before man legislated, and. its object of
obedience was rather its own moral sense;
and that, transfer its fealty as much as you
can to the worded principles of le al right
and honesty, the divit;e conseionsnZi of the
soul makes a sigh in the heart when the
standard of obedience falls short Of its first
implanted ideal of duty. Alas! that Mr.
Gilder was not the only auto that has felt this
incomplete sad:il:et:jou of ditty; and alas!
that lc' w:ts not the only 111:111 that lots hilt
blind to the cause of if. 'Alas! that the pack.,
ages on top that at times went to pounding
the roof like fifty frantic base-drummers,
were beating- to bitti a far-ofr and indistinct.
tune!
When Mr. (l it arrived at home and had
gotten all the thing nieely set in a row in his
store-roiim, and had hang up a smooth Sun
daylsnit of clothes his chamber closet, he
began to ff...el a little pleasanter. Soon the,
sight or them would diffu s e a so n, wa ri a g l ov "
round his stomach that I.uuld make
his palms itch to he rubbed together..
PTER. FIFTH
Some years after, Mr. Gilder was:to be
found still working back of his front shop
window. His hair was turning white now,
and hi§ tongue getting all the garrulity of
old age. Ile liked to talk of things he had,
keeli Or heard ; and would"tell old stories by
the hour to the friends that dropped into the
shop,-worldug-away- all- theditne
es and jewelry, and they leaning on the coun
ter or railing, quietly drinking in his words,
qr,listlessly dreaming with Itim„but of some-
thing else
One day an acquaintance`eame in and sat
down by the side of him to pass away a leis
lire 'hour or so, and soon, from interchange
of questiOns and remarks,,,the old man was
led into a whole maze of' bast events, which
came forth for the edification of the• neigh
her. His mind was away in the midst of the
scenes of his tales,...and forgetting all present
scruples or determinations, he Mlle 01)011the
events of his past life' willilMnes Atwood;
and the mare" interest the liCarershovied at
the narrative, the more minute':did £lie old
man pictOre the details. Mr,' (Hider never
often thought, nor did anythink 1 ut the remi
niscences of the events dwell in his minctfor
after-thoughts; so he never recalled that the
man Who was his listener•WaS the Son (if the
neighbor frOm whop :lames Atwood stole
the horse, and who a•hond equally
will, him. This son 'Hid round among his