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SERIES.
NORVVALK, CT. WEDNESDAY, JULY 14,184-7'.
VOLUME so-isiuimziaii 28.-
< ‘
POETRY-
From the IIcir{f'or(l Couraizt.
F.LAGG'S PICTURE
THE LA7NDn\‘c"or Tm-: PILGRIMS.
At prayer! at prayer! upo_ii the snow-clad rock,
The cold bleak sky obscures them.
. .- I-Ioly Ma ii,
Heart; on thy lips, and Bible in thy hand,
Pour fourth, as far as feeble speech can do,
The intense emotion oftlie ocean-t'oss'(l
And care-worn group who thus encircles thee.
Rest on thy sword, thou man oflilood, and muse,
Thy fadiiig Rose beside tliec. Bow and ask
Strength for strange conflict. \Vll(‘,l) savage foe
Shall plant liis anibusli ; and the secret sliaft
\Vliiz tliro’ the forest, while the war-wlioop
wakes
The startled infant on its-iiiotlier’s breast.
Pritliec. Joliii Aideii, say thy prayers with zeal,
1Fiii'gé-t'l’til of thy beauty, and ofliér
\\-"ho Cupid's subtle mesh shall weave for thee,
\Vlieii lierc and there, the sot't‘lei's’ roofs shall mix
\Vitli the young verdure of a straiiger cliiue.
Qh noble Carver, boundless is thy wealth
In fhe fond Iicart that thus doth cling to thine,
\Vit.li all the ti'iist'fiiliiess ofwouian’s love,
And all its firm endurance.
_ Pale and sweet,
-.Ali,'sufTe'i'ing wife of \Vinslow! ’tis in vain
That thus thy husband clasps thy fragile liand.
He may not guard thee, from the gliastly form
That on thy forehead" stamps the seal of doom.
He cannot keep thee, Lady. Snows iuay chill
Thy feet, that Eii;.;land’s richest carpets press‘d.
A little while, and then the soul that. sits
Open thine upraiscd eye, shall lieavenward soar.
Hail, lone and tiny May Flower! ark that toucl1’d
Our Ararat, without a herald dovc,
Or leaf ofgroeting olivc, speed thy course
Homeward in hope, for henccfortli shalt thou be
Reiiieniber’d through all time; ’
, Thou, who hast been
Seed bearer to a world, shalt ever be
Blessed for this thy deed, and on the lips
Of each returning race, thy name shall dwell
Blent with the iiicniory oftliose pilgrim siros
\VIio taught: New EngIaiid’s wilds .lcliovali’s
praise.f 1.. ii. 5.
m__
MISCELLA NY.
THE MARRIAGE C]‘3RTIFICA'I‘1£.
Coizliii ucd.
By the author of “The Groomsman," &c.
As soon as dinner was over I gave or-
ders to Jerome, who got the chaise ready,
and agreeable to the request of Mr. Barry
I drove over to Bristol—t\vo miles distant
—in order to communicate to my brother
his non-acceptance of Arthur Fleming’s
challenge. I inquired for him, as, Flem-
ing’s note directed at the “Cross Keys”
and was shown into an apartment where
he and Fleming were together—my brother
at a table, writing; the other stretched at
length upon a sofa,rcading. To the Iattcr’s
silent nod of recognition I returned a sliglii
inclination of the head, then called Lewis
aside ‘and at the other ‘end of the room
coinmunicat ‘Mr. Barry’s refusal to him.
He sneered and turning round advanced to
his companion who was still extended upon
the sofa—tliey whispered, and I noticed a
similar contemptuous smile upon the
features of the latter.
‘So,’ sad my brother, aloud, addressing
his words to me with an air of si.ipercili-
ousncss that was anything but agreeable-
‘so your father-in-law that is to be,
is villain enough to refdse an honorrable
‘satisfaction when called upon.’
‘He is both willing and able to answer
for anything that he has said or donc,’,l’
replied with ancqual tone of confidence
and with as haughty a department.
‘He is—does he say so ?
‘He does.’
‘Why not do it then’. why has he not
done it before this I?’ cried Lewis, promptly
—-‘wliy circulate a report of such a derog-
atory nature’! why equivocate in regard
to the certificate of marriage? W/ii/.7
harmony. A
6 ~ 9 '
I am not angry, said I.
‘You are at least excited,’ he continued
in the cause of virtue.
his Iieel——“Virtue,” indeed I’
pion of———I\I r. I3arry’s or your own I’
defend.’ ’
This answer, as was evident by thcii'7,0f his passions, and
;reciprocal glance: tow-ards each other,
brother desirinv or retendin-T to desire ‘With tears in her eies sav vonfl
’ U P :3 I I .
Alas I why should .5’/ie weep 'I’ he uttered
with feeling. ‘VVhat caused her tears '1.’
. I was about to return a cutting answer
‘No," I answered——‘iiot excited, but bold but upon second -thought, de.-.istcd—my
!own feelings would not permit me to hurt.
‘Virtue,’ sneeri.-d Fleming, turning upon ,another’s. At this moment, too, Lewis
.sat up and asked for a glass of water.
‘.-\nd pray, sir,’ asked Lewis, ‘\\'Iiose,Flcii'iiiig poureé it out and Landed it to
virtue are we to consider you the cham- him.
Ills eyes were again fixed fercely
upon me, and in a moment he sprang for-
‘Of either,’ was my prompt reply-——;w:ird, as I -had done, to clutcli nie;I
‘when either is assailed I am ready to'avoi(Ied liini—and he reeled against ‘the
,wall, pale and cxliaiistctl with the \ iolencc
would have fallen
prostrate upon the floor, but for the
fsiirprised them. Fleming rallied liowever, ' support of lciiiiiig. who perceiving his
;‘Since you are cliampion for the honor of_si;ua1ion, promptly flew to his aid.
,il)t)lI],’ said he, ‘I presume that M r. Barry;
?
is this——— exclaimed tlic
‘Nay, why
‘is not (Zfl,‘.'.|_IJI-3 of dot‘:-riitliiig Ill:; own or else : latter—~‘ For G0(I’s sake, Lewis, restrain
,is willing; to let aiiotliei‘ tulic the trouble
ioffhis hands.’
I .‘Ay, you suppse so—‘siispicion always
Ihaunts the guilty mind.’ ’
I ‘Ion are insolcnt.’
_ ‘No, not insolcnt; yet not afraid to
ibreatlie my tliouglits.”
i Ile compressed his lips and my brother’s
icountenance instantly assuined an aspect
ldark as an approaching thunderstorm.
,Tlie fearful passions of each of us were
lready to burst forth. A spark of fire
'applied to a train of suflicicnt gunpowder‘
will in a moment. destroy a whole city—it
was so with us; our bosoms were already
iiiflainablc and it required but another
word of provocation to reuse within us
the fires of volcanic passions. Nor was
that word a inoirient wanting. In answer
to some further remarks of mine in
vindic-a’ion of Mr. l3arry’s cliaracter my
brother retortcd with the monosyllable,
‘False I’
‘False I’ Iecliocd, swelling with rage——
‘false I’
He was equally enraged; his face
,like scarlet. ‘False, yes—’tis a lie,’ he
continued.
As the hungry tiger leaps upon his prey,
I bounded forward and grasped his tliroatl
Fierce almost as the tiger’s thirst’ for
blood, was my desire of retaliation. All
at once, like the nausea of bad__ digestion,
the gall-like feeling rose within my lienrl.
Since our boyish contentions, I had
harbored no-malice against him, but in an
instant, like a magical delusion, old antip-
athies revived,and long slumbering pa sions
awoke. '
cried Fleinirig, seizing me by the arm. I
heard his worils,and felt his grasp, but did
not relinquish mine. My brother grew
black in the face—I saw it—but still held
on to him; he gasped for brcaili——striig-
glcd—-—and would have pcrislied beneath
my hand, but for a gigantic effort of Flem-
iu;._z’s sfrcngtli, who scparzitcd us; I f---ll
back upon the floor with the violence of
the _ierk—iny coat half torn off my hack——
and Lewis rcelcd towards the sofa, upon
which he sunk exlianstcd.
By the time I had raised to my feet
again, and fairly come to my scnst-s—for
Iliad been wild, bewildered with passion
-—the room was half filled with spectators,
among which was my valet Jerome. He
immediately sympatliiscd with me, and
planted himsclfat myside with clenched
lists, zealously ready to do battle with any
one in my behalf, and equally reckless
the number to contend with.
My brother having somewhat revived,
fixed his eyes upon me with the look of a
demon. Fleming was assiduously bathing
his temples, and urging him persuasively
to drink of the wine whicli he presented to
his lips. I stood with folded arms, gazing
upon the scene, determined to , wait until
Lewis spoke. ’
Fleming, who had evidently rescued me
Because he dreads the truth, he fears the
consequence, and to screen Iiimself has‘
uttered falsehood upon falsehood—or, in,upon Cain, I felt a sensation of gratitude.
lYes, one moment more, and Lewis would
‘Brother——' with that quick and ener-fhave been choaked to death-—and I——I’
words more expressive, he is a liar I’
gelic articulation natural to a sudden
emotion, I exclaimed—‘but,’ I continued,
checking my first impulse, ‘you are my
brother.’
‘WcIl—and if I were 7z’ot—-what then ?’
with a look of defiance, he retorted.
It required all my exertions of self-com-icooks, dzc. who had one after anotherily obliged to enter into a detail
from committing that fearful deed which
caused the Omnipotent to set: his mark
shucldered at. the thouglit, would have been
iguilty of that crime which “hath the pri-
lmal, eldest ' cui'se upon it,—a bro[l1er’s
i murder I.”
I The servants, lodgers, visiters, loiingers,
tlandlord and landlad ', maids, laundresses,
‘For God’s sake, liold—you are brotlicrs I’ ,
from whence the point of attack, or what
,your passions or they will be the death
of you. This is not coui'age—’tis
‘madness I’ ‘
It was an awful moment. While Flem-
ing dragged him towards the sofa, his
.mouth foamed, and I could fairly hear the
grating of his teeth against each other! I '
trembfcd, not wiili fear but awe. The
sight tlirilled through iuy heart, and a
cold shudder distinctly crept through my
veins. ‘Curse him! ‘be muttered, with a
smothered, but fiendish tone.,
Seizing my hat, and rushing from the
apartment, I liuriied to the bar-room, and
,l'iasti y swallowed ii largo (Ir-a'ug'Iit of bran-
seemcd to pervade my bosom. A reck-
less, dare-devil spirit. In fact, I believe,
at the moment, I was half-crazed. lfe-i
scending the steps, I leaped into the cliaisc,
and bade Jerome drive back as fast as he,
could. Obedient to the word, he applied.
the lush smartly, and by the time we reach-I
ed Barry Place the horses were ‘ rocking:
and white with foam.
I
C!IA1"l‘t~ll‘. x.
‘ "The plot tliickciis.”
Louisa was piomenading the tessclafed
marble of the piazza in front oftlie house,
_—and, as the reader will readily expcct,§
,'she was not a little surprised to witness‘
the siced with which I drove or rather I
. 7 3
dashed, up the carriage way. .
‘WI;-.'it’s the matter, George’. why do'
you come in such Iiastel what tidings"!
gspeak I’ _ _ , 1 ;
I ‘I Iiave iiotidings to communicate,’ I
fanswered, giddily springing from the;
I I ,
chaise. ~ :
I ‘Alas, how pale you are——you are ill,
she utlerei with a tone of ;?t’l’cctioiiate in~
Y n I
tcrest. ‘it’ our eyes have lost their riaturirli
Scorr.
I
Come in.’ =
I was indeed sick at heart , the eflcct
of the brandy, which had, during the drivc,f
kept me excited, all at once left me, and:
i'c:i<.l-':i'cd me even more dispirited than I’
would have been had I not drank it. My
rbrain grow dizzy, my head seemed to
whirl like a vortex, round and round, and
my eyes were so liravy that it was next
impossible for me to keep them open.
The use of my limbs, too, almost entirely
deserted me, but with the support of Loui-
su, I tottered into the house, and sinking
upon the nearest ottoman,I was for a
while completely lost to consciousness.
\\ hen I revived, Louisa was bending over
ine——in her cycs the tear trop trembled-
they were lixed upon me. «
‘You are better now,’ she timidly re-
marked, ‘your checks have resumed their
natural hue, and your eyes are restored to
their usual expression. Say———will you '
not,’ she continued—-‘will you not reveal;
the cause of this agitation’! Little experi-!
ence in the world as I have had ’she con.‘
tinued, ‘I have iiotxvitlistanding learned,
enough to i-now that the nature of your
present indisposition is neiiherbodily sicic--
ness or pain altogether, but the natural
consequence of an overwhelming mental
anxiety.’
‘It is as you say,’ I responded, ‘it is in—i
deed the result of mental anxiety. My
brothcr———’ ’
‘Your brother I—what of him .7’
W’ithout further prelude, I related to
her the occurrence which I have just. de-
scribed to the reader, as having taken
place between Lewis, Fleming, and my-,
.
i
.
of the
maud to brook this tumuIt—but I did brook‘rushed into the room upon hearing the A, causes which had led to such a result;
it, and for a moment there was a pause of‘ noise of the scuflle, getting no answers tojthe challenge, and the cause of the chal-
ztlieir inquiries from either Iileiniiig or my- Ienge, were necessarily included, as well
embarrasment.
‘The charge,’I calmly replied,
Iias been preferred against Mr. Barry is
erroneous.’
‘Erroneous I’ echoed Fleming, who now
rose from his recumbent position upon the
sofa, and tossed aside the volume he had
been. reading.
dug altogether under the difficulty of false
impressions.’
‘I differ with you, sir,’ he sarcastically
responded. ‘Labouring under false im-
pressions did you say’!
‘Yes,’ I returned, determined not _to
lose the command of my feelings-—‘yes,
and you are now endeavoring to injure
him who has never done you wrong nor
as much as thrown a straw in your way.’
‘Were I so disposed I could convince
you to the contrary,’ he replied-—-‘at: least
I think I c0uId—-but perhaps you are re-
solved not to be convinced, and in that
case my effort would prove abortive,’
‘No sir, I am not so unreasonable ‘as
you are willing to suppose I am_ Yau
measure my grain by your bushel.’
‘It’s a matter however that is not worth
getting angry about,’ observed my
the three of us. .
, As for Fleming lie was a riddle Icould
not solve. ‘I am sorry—indeed sorry,’
said be speaking to me in ii low voice, and
_ gwith a look of sincerity that I could not
‘Yes,’ was my reply, ‘I have good,believe feigned. ‘It wil , I fear create
rreasong sir, to believe that you are labour- I disagreeable feelings between your brother
land you3
other——at least he has to me.’
to each other 1’
friends or foes 'I’
that you know not of.
tunately,) are my brother-in law.’
He started.
marriage ’'I’
eyes?
‘No, sir ; it cannot create—-—it has but
revived. Such feelings are by no means
new to us--\ve have long been foes to each
‘Foes,’ be repeated ; ‘brothers, and foes
‘Yes; but why be surprised I of what
interest can it be to you whether we are
‘Much—I have an interest in your family
‘Indeed,’ I ejaculated——‘and that which
I’ do not-know is the fact that you, (unfor-
‘Then Ellen has told you of our
‘Yes-—poor~ gii_-lJ——-with tears in her
‘which I self, and perceiving that the Fracas wasfas the scene I had witnessed at the death
over, retired, and again left the room tolof Mrs. Fleming;
this led to the disclo-
llsure of facts in regard to herself, and, as
‘one after another I divulged them, untit-
terable was her astonishment! Word for
for word, as I received them from M r.
Barry, I recounted to her the story of her
birth.
‘Is it possible! is it possible I’ she al-
most breathlcssly rcpeated——‘and he is
not my father ’I"
‘Yes,’ I responded, ‘lie is your father.
Though your existence springs not from
him, he has been to you, and still is a de-
voted father.’
.‘.\’lore——-much more I’ rejoined the won-
dering girl—‘never could parent be more
kind, more anxious for the happiness and
welfare of his child. This tIien~—his vis-
its to the bedside ofhis mother in law, sat-
isfrctorily accounts for his nightly ab-
scence from his home and fireside last
winter. I remember wellhow incessantly
[thought u.poii it, and now I know how
frequently in thought I have wronged him.
I can however, offer as an extenuationjfor
myself, the plea, that. his conduct. was
mysterious, which it certainly was,and it_is
a rule,
41‘
dy and water. A feeling of desperation.
,seIf; having related it, I was consequent--.
tliat mysteryimplies guilt, thoiigh’
in this instance it lies not resulted so.’
rejoined, and after a pause of thought.’
‘My name,’ said she, ‘is no longer Bar-
ry then, but Boyd I’
your fathe-r,’_I answered, ‘but you have so
long been known by the name of your
guardian, and been considered his dangli-
tcr, that it will be useless to assume your
own until—’
. ‘VVell, until wheul why do you hesi-
tate 'I’ she archly inquired.
, ‘Until,’ said I, in an undertone, half
'basI.ful and half afraid to utter it—‘until
you cliange it by marii-age to mine ’
‘Ali, ha I’ she laugliingly exclaimed, ‘I
expcctc-(l that would conclude your sen-
tcncc. But, ifg/oir desire it, i am content.
that it he so.
‘Besides,’ said I, ‘it was under an in
junction of secrecy that I was made ac-
quainted with IIII‘ fact. I gave my prom-
ise not to speak of it to you.’
‘You did—then why did you violate
your promise 7.’
‘Siniply because I love .you I Frequently
was I upon the point of disclosing all to
you, but the promise Iliad given kept me
in awe, and——’ '
’.I'Ii.'l’C our conversation was interrupted
by the entrance of lllr. Barry, with whom
immediately coinmunicated the manner
of my reception at the hotel and the scuf-
iflc that took place there.
‘I am sorry,’ said he, ‘that in rendering
me an obligation of so peculiar a nature,
you should have been subjected to such
unpleasant treatment from your brother.
Flemiiig, you say, interfered, and, as you
thin‘-r, was the prcservcr of your brotlier’s
life .3’
‘Yes,’ was my reply, and, notwitlistand-
ing how I otherwise may feel towards
him, for that act I am deeply grateful.
Had he not interposed as promptly as he
did, I am confident Lewis would have
been-—’
‘Meiition it not,’ Mr. Barry exclairiierl
wii.h an averted look—-—-‘the very thought
makes me shudder! \\’li-at slaves of cir-
cumstance we are I’
Our conversation continued, and I wish-
ed to inform him of what Iiad transpired
between Louisa and myself, and several
times was I determined to break the sub-
'cct,.but, notwitlistanding I did not feel
myself culpable——had my life depended
upon it, I was unable to effect. it, and in
the midst of my cfl'ortless determinations
we were snaimoncd to the supper table.
.- The next (lay, at about ‘.2 o’cIocl.', liaving
I""I"“5"“’ “I9 "5“3Ii“I I“"°"V 3'0" "”e',’aliglitetI from :1 drive with Louisa, a ser-
vzint placed in my hands the following
from my Sl>ICl':
“DEAR liiioriiuii,
‘ From my interview with you, I have
liastened to my chamber, there to vent in
tears the feelings that are too overpower-
ing longer to stifle. How nati.iral is the
dcsire of sympathy; sorrow is Iieavy, but
if participated, we feel but half its weight.
In my feelings, what a sudden change has
been wrought! Yesterday I was happy as
the little bird that cliirps its melody upon
the window seat, and to day I am wretch-
cd I yes, miserable! ‘Oh, break my heart!
poor bankrupt, break at once I’ cxclaims
Juliet in the intensity of her grief,-and
jWlI.Il equal emphasis and truth can I re-
lpcat it. Is it possible, that Arthur is the
‘man you have described him to be’! And
iigiiin with Juliet can I cxclaim, ‘Oh, that
deceit should dwell in such a gorgeous
alace I’
‘After the conversation which this af-
ternoon took place between us, it devolves
upon me, as ‘a duty, to be candid. In
whom but you can I now confidcl My
6 husband is no longer worthy of conlidcnce.
Since my first introduction to Arthur,
eight months .-igo,lhave not been more
.. than a third of the time intimate with him.
‘You of course, recollect. the first time he
dined with our family; I then took notice
3ll()\\' cooly you conducted yourself towards
_him, but knew not the reason you Iiad for
doing so, nor had any grounds whatever
to found a conjecture upon. That passed
by, and at that period I thought no more
of him than of any other visiter who might
chance to be introduced to the family. I
tleman, that his face was rather handsome
and prepossessing than otherwise, but I
then perceived none of‘that: superior per-
sonal beauty and depth of mind which I
have since discovered that he possesses——
‘or which, as is perhads the case, the par-
tiality of my judgment awarded _
’are apt to think as we wish. Lewis, as
lymi must have observed, paid the utmost
deference to him on that occasion, and
’was paiticularly assiduous in leading his
tfriend and myself into conversation.
Time after time, subsequent to this, he
visited the house; hoeventually paid his
attentions more especially to myself, his
tibly he won my afI'ec'ti.ons.
with your own nfaii-e de cwur, vou were
so much absent from home, that you sel-
dom meet him, and to that I attribute
much of my misfortune. Had you been
an observer, an eye witness, you doubtless
would have nipped the .
tachment in its bud, and I should have
been spared the hopeless forebodings that
at present rendes me wretched.
with my parents weighed much in the
scale of their opinion, and backed by the
zeal of my brother, the good will of them,
together with his own powers of pleasing,
is it to be wondered that he proved 3
‘There are exceptions in all things,’ Ices am i
‘Ye-s;. Boy-cl was the family name of
I was presently left alone, and to whom I-
saw that his manners were those of a gen-,
him ;- we,
mariners began to interest, and imperccp-.
Occupied,
growth of my at-.
‘i thriving suitor, or, under such circumstan-
' to blame! '
I ‘Three weeks ago we were privately
married. I gave my promise at the time
not to divulge the secret until it should be
his pIeasure—but, alas! how vain are
promises like tIiese—-our feelings are not
always under our control-—-and in a mo-
ment of sorrow, I unconsciously betrayed
it to you.
‘And now what’s to be done 'I’ Advise
me—protect me! you are my brother.
Your affectionate, _sorrowful,
Ei.Li2N.’
‘My poor, poor sister!’ I sighed, as I
threw down the letter upon the table and
gave vent to a flood of tears. ‘Alas, that
one so gentle, fond, and angel like, should
meet with such a fate I’ 'II ese, and sin.-
ilar reflections passed rapidly through the
crucible of thought, and oh! the anguish
of that moment! I could but accuse my-
self, and keen was the pang of self-re-
fproach.
Taking pen and paper, I sat about wri-
.ting, and, more to pass'the time than any
other consideration, wrote a letter to El-
Tlen, in which, among other matters, I de-
tailed the occurrence at the “Crossed
Keys.”
By the time I had finished, dinner was
announced. At the table, I too‘; the op-
portunity of informing Mr. Bariy and
Louisa of my relationship to Fleming.
‘Married——what, is your sister married,’
exclaimed Louisa.
‘Yes,’ was my monosyllabical reply.
‘I\’Iarried—-married to Fleming '1.’ half-
asked, half echoed Mr. Barry.
‘Yes—unfortunately—’ I rejoined.
‘Unfortunately, indeed,’ he responded
with a tone of comniiserafion—‘uiifortu-
nate I fear.’
As.l expected it would, this disclosure
deeply interested Mr. B-arry—it seemed as
if he could scarcely credit it: to use his
own words it appearedlikea dream to him.
Two days subsequent to the receipt of
this letter from my sister, I received an-
other from her in answer to the one I sent.
To her second letter was the following
postscript:
‘Arthur and Lewis have not yet return-
ed. Where do you think they are ‘I Write
me immediately, if you linow, or hear
anytliing of their movements.’
- ‘Louisaand I were sitting‘ together ‘in
the drawing room, Weclnesdziy evening,
August —. Suddenly were we startled
by the report of fire arms and the shiver-
ing of glass. ‘Oh, Ileavens! my father I’
Lhrillingly shrickcd Louisa, her fears in-
stinctively directing her tlioughts to Iiim,
and simultaneously she and I rushed up
the stairs to the lit vary where we had but
recently left him. Upon opening the door,
we discovered Mr. Barry standing pale
and agitated with affriglit. Ile still held,
in his hand the book he had been reading
and his gaze—seemcd as if they would
start out of his head-—was riveted upon
the broken shade of an astral lamp, part of
which remained while the rest Iiad been
:~‘l|IV(2l'€‘(l into innumerable fragments. In
the confused alarm of the moment, he had
overturned the chair upon which he had
been sitting. His hair seemed to stand on
end, and his whole frame trembled.
‘ fhank Heaven! you are uninjured!’
exclaimed Louisa, throwing her arms of-
fectionately round him—-it recalled him
to consciousness.‘
‘Uninjured I am,’ he replied——‘but mir-
aculously so. The ball wliizzed by me———
I heard it-—-witliin a hair bieadth as it
seemed.’ His nerves, all of which had
been tensive and strong, suddenly failed
him, a reaction took place, and he sunk
exhausted upon a sofa, to which Louisa
and I supported Iiim.
Half a dozen of the domestics, who had
likewise been alarmed by the report oftlie
rifle, now found their way to the library;
I immediately despatched them in search
of the offender. Jerome was one of them,
who instantly scampered off, taking the
lead, in pursuit.
through one of the easements, cutting a
circular hole of half an inch in diameter
through the pane of glass, and wasloclged
in the wall opposite. It had evidently
been aimed at: Mr. Barry, and miraculous
Iindced was his escape. The ball had been
‘fired from a position horizontal 'WlI.Il tne
casement, and the library being_in the sec-
ond story of the mansion, the person who
dis-cliarged the rifle must have been sta-
tioned at the moment among the bougbs
of a large oak that was before the case-
ment, about twenty feet distant, and from
convenient for so dire a pur-
tits situation,
V pose. ‘
' Mv suspicions at once rested on blem-
'l'hc incident of the challenge, and
.100‘.
ithe fact ofhis being in the neig_hborhood,f
; were, as I thought, very conclusive proofs, .
and I advised Mr. Barry to immediately
prosecute him.‘ _ V
' ‘No,’ said he, ‘I do not wish to be pre-
cipitate—wait a little.’
. ‘ “Procrastination is -the thiefoftime,” ’
’ I I
II observed, quoting a line from Young.
3 “ ‘Wisely, and slow; tl_iey Slllmblea [hill
’run fast,’ ” he answered, with a qu0tfllI0n
ffrom Shakspeare. _
I In the course of an hour the domestics,
lone by one, began to return; Jerome last,
‘of all. ‘Their search had been ineffectual.
cFLA_.HTEIl. xi.
‘Lewis reported him to be rich, which “Wl1at meanst_ thou by that P-39°?’-’ ‘Vlmt °°n’‘
, yance ,
I-last: thou been for ing to deceive my father,
That Altamout 65 t on may share his wealth I”
, Rowe.
‘Artliir: and Lewis i-rive at. last ro'tar‘n-
In the meantime, I as-, _ .
certaiiied that a‘rille ball had been firedland remarkably white teeth—is round or
ed,’ wrote my sister in a letter to me, du-
ted the day succeeding the night upon
which the foregoing occurred. ‘Upon de.-.
scending to the. breakfast room I found
them both seated at the table; Arthur
rose to meet me, but instead of cordially
'cncountering my husband with reciprocal
warmth, I barely suffered the kiss with
which’ be greeted me, and ‘replied to hint
affectionate interrogations with a degree
of coldness that surprised him——and in-
deed I surprised myself. They have
brought with them, in what capacity I
know not, a man by the name of Davis.
Ile does not appear to be an equal or com-
'panion. He eats his meals with the ser-
vants, and if he mingles witliany it is with
them. I have not seen either my husband
,or brother speak to him during the day;
{nor does the man seem to be at eale, but
restlessly Ioiters about the place alone.
He has nothing in his appearaiice rccom
mcndatory—on the contrary, he. appears
to be stupcfied with excessive drinking.
His face is unnaturally red and bloated,
and his eyes bloodshot. Who he is, what
he is, or where from, I know not-——nlII
know is, that he- came here with Arthur
and Lewis, and goes by the name of Da-
vis.’ .
Added to this letter was a brief post-
script :—-‘Father has had a severe attack
from his old enemy the gout,and is at pres-
ent confined to his room. The physician
however does not consider him in danger.’
This letter I_ read over three or four
times—it interested me. The mention of
the name Davis particularly arrested my
attention. It at once occurred to me that
it was perhaps the sameperson I had heard
Mr. Barry speak of as having married the
cliambcrniaid, Susan. The fact too, of my‘
sister’s noticing his habits ofincbriety con-
curred with what Mr. Barry had been in-
formed by “aunt Peggy,” who, it will be
recollccted, very emphatically accused
him of this vice. Thoughts like these oc-
cupied my mind and continued to haunt
my imagination in dreams during the
night, and further confirmation came in-
the foilowing, the next day. I 1 saw by the
superscription that it was from my sister.
It was dated at Harrisonxille, Aug. 15th,
1831, and ran thus:
“Dear Brother : _
You will readily imagine the disc'-
grceablencss of my situation at present-—
tlie wife of a man whom I still love» but
distrust. The warmth of my affection’
has not abated, butI have lost my respect
for him, and there is a degree of constraint
while in his presence, that renders all my
endeavors to the contrary abortive.
Do not, I entreat you, communicate my.
marriage to our parents.
‘Father is no better. Lewis is very
attentive to him——constantIy at his side.
That drunken Davis is still here, and I
yesterday observed him once or twice in
earnest conversation. with Lewis, which
was sure to be bro‘nen off at my approach,
and the former would slink away with a
guilty loo‘-'. I am suspicious of their mn-
nceuvres, and shall not fail to watch them
closely. ELLEN.
This communication, and the one pre-
vious, I showed to Mr. Barry, asking him
if he thought the ‘Davis’ mentioned
therein was the same who had married
Susanl He replied affiriiiatively, and ad-
vised me to request of my sister a des-
cription of the person to whom she allu-
ded—-upon the receipt of which be con ,
with certainty assert as to his identity. I
accordingly wrote to Ellen—-she answered
as follows :
Aug. 17th, 1834:.
“You have requested me to furnish a
description of Davis, with which I hasten
to comply in as few words as possible, but
wliich’I trust will be sufficient. He is
rather above the ordinary stature——lias
been, I presume, a fine looking man, but
his vices have made sad havock with hrs
constitution, and left but: a wreck as it
were of what he formerly was. He bu
dark straight hair, Indian-like black eyes,
rather stoop-shouldered, and has a slug-
gish gait. ‘A —
“Father is still no better. He seems
‘to be in much pain, and breathes with dif-
=ficulty. ’
“Yours affectionately, &c.”
This note I immediately put into the
.hands of Mr. Barry for him to peruse--in
ithe brief but concise description of which
lhe at once recognised the husband of the
schambermaid. ' '
‘This must be looked to,’ said he; ’tie
‘for no good that he is now sojourning_a,t
.your fatber’s, depend upon it. My advice
is, hasten‘ home to-mori-ow early—hum8n
flife hangs but upon a thr_ea(l'——au(l I sue-
épect some foul design.’ _
’ With this advice I resolved to acquiesce.
[; hm] already occurred to _me that Davis
was perhaps a tool with which my brother
and Fleming intended to work. Various
conjectures were agitated in my breast.
morning for Harrisonville, an additional
impetus was given by the receipt of the
followinga few hours subsequent -to the
preceding note :——- ~
Dear Brat/ier ,-
Scarcely bad I folded, sealed rind
despatched my previous communication.
dying parent. At about noon to-day,-he.
~_I_;ecame suddenly much worse, and the,
physician being summoned: he “Iv °“°°
pronounced that hope .wac past. My
father received the announcement with
composure, andexpressed a desire tliatv-_§
{Rwy-er fg_ho'ul_d be sent. for to draw up his
And, to my determinat. on of leaving next ’
before I was called to the bedside of‘ our
\
Norwalk Chronicler