HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Signal, 1881-04-01, Page 22
THE HURON SIGNAL, FRIDAY, APRIL 1. 1881.
A LIFE FOR A LIFE. The e -a hd "Sr glib"
for his wi;fa This, I wan I felt
VT IMO Mamie likes • Talk, long
M: 1
that
CHAPInit XXIV. t gi moth *sJ 1ts
>s Melteto one new a Ay* I
Ok, the happiness et knowing thiel one lived fr v ! sod
eau sake another happy -- 'el my
happy ! Oh, hew Meed I Dight to grew ! So I Ill e.vrane-.-and staid It was
For the events which have mimed kis act allowed me to ootefost lam in my
so sash paha, and which he has yet to ether wy, I just stele my hand imide
tell papa and ms -they did not weigh kis, whlek shaped instantly and tightly
neck on my mint Probably there is roved it That was all, and that was
se family in which there i not same snoggh. Thus we sat side by Ude, when
ash pausal reveletioo to be Horde; we the door opened -nod in walked peps
also have to tell him *boot poor Harry. How strangely the (Mak end the ser-
ious are mixed up together, in life, and
even in one's own nature. While writ-
ing this, I Mee gone off into a hearty fit
of lengths" at the recoliestiun of papa's
tees when he saw us sitting there.
Though M the time it was no laugh-
ing matter. For a moss.st he wee
dumb with astonishment, then he mid
severely.
"Dr. Urquhart, I suppose I meat con-
clude --indeed, I can only conclude sine
thing. But you might have spoken to
me beton addreseing yourself to my
daughter."
Mu did not answer immediately -
when he did, his voids absolutely made
me start
"Sir, I have been very wrong -but I
will make amends -you shall know all.
Only Sst-as myexcese," here he spoke
out peseiosstsly,'snd told paps all that
Innis to him, all that we were W one
soother.
Poor papa, it must have reminded him
of his own young days -I have heard be
wee very fond of his first wife, Barry's
mother -for when I hung about his
neck, mine were not the only tears. He
held out his hand to Max.
"Doctor, I forgive you; and there is
not a man alive on whom I would w
gladly bestow this little girl as you."
And here Max tried meas I suppose
people not yet quite familiar will be sire
to try one another at first Without
•
saying a word, or even accepting paps s
Mad, he walked straight out of the
MOM
It was not right --even if he were
ever so much uanerved; why should he
be ten proud to show it 1 and it might
have seriously offended papa I soften-
ed setters as well as I could, by explain-
ing that he had not wished to ask me of
papa till • week hence, when he should
be able fully to enter into his circum -
sesame.
"My dear," papa interupted, "go and
tell him he may communicate them at
whatever time he chooses. When such
a man as Dr. Urquhart honestly Domes
and *aka me for my daughter, you may
be sure the very lad thing I should oak
him would be about his circumstances."
With my heart brimful at papa's kind-
ness, I went to explain this to Max. I
found him alone in the library, standing
motionless at the window. I touched
him, with some silly ooquettiah speech
about how he c,uld think of letting me
run after him in this faahion. He turn-
ed round.
"Oh, Max, what is the matter 7 Oh
Max i" I could say no more.
"My child !" He soothed me by call-
ing me that and several ether fond
names; but all them things are between
him and me alone. "Now, good-bye. I
must bid you good-bye at once."
I tried to make him understand there
was no necessity -that papa desired to
heir nothing, ouly wished him to flay
with na till evening. That indeed, look-
ing as wretched as he did, I could not
and would not let him go. But in vain.
"I cannotlstay. I cannot be a hypo-
crite. Do net ask it. Let me go -oh 7
But these things are purely accidental
and eitt•rnell. His fear that I sheath
"cheap my opinion of kis" made vas
smile "Mu," 1 said, out load, rd.
dressing myself to t e aeighboriag heath
er-bush, which might be considered •
delicate compliment le the hind eke",
he wee bean. "Olt, Mem, whet non-
sense you elo Wk ! While Toe are you
aad I am myself, you and I aro me."
Descending the kill -top, I passed all
these my happy thoughts deep down
into my heart, oovered toes ap, and
went beck in the world again
"Mrs. Greeks end I spent a quiet
day; the quieter, that I afterward paid
for my fen ea tie hilltop by hours of
extreme exhaustion. It was e.4 own
folly, I told her, and tried to kangb at it,
"eying I ahenld be better te-sersww.
Bed many a time the thought same,
what if I should not be better t►eteerew
nor any to -morrow 1 What if, after all,
I should have to go sway and leave him
with no one to mike him happy 1 Aad
than I learned how precious life had
gsswa, mel tented, in domes, whet is
mesa% by "the bitterness of deetk"
Bat it did not Let And by this I
know that our love is holy; that. I ma
new think of either his departure or my
own without either terror or despair. 1
know that even death itself can never
psrt,Mez and me.
Monday me I was really better,
and went about the house with Mrs.
Or•nton all the forenoon- She asked me
whet time Dr. Urquhart had mad be
should be here; with various other
questions about him. All of which I
answered without confusion or MOM -
tion; it seemed as if I had now belonged
to him fur a long time. But when, at
last, his ring came to the hall door, all
the blood rushed to my heart, and beck
again into my face -and Max.. Granton
sew it.
What was I to de 1 to try and "throw
dust" into those keen, kind eyes, to tell
or act a falsehood, as if I were ashamed
of myself or him 1 I cou.d not. So I
simply set ailent, and let bee think whet
she chow.
Whatever she thought, the good old
lady maid nothing. She sighed -eh ! it
went to my conscience, that sigh -and
yet I have dnoe no wrong either to her
or Colin; then, making some excuse, she
slipped out of the ruom, and the four
walla only beheld Max and me when we
met.
After we had shaken hands, we set
down in silence. Then I asked him
what he had been doing with himself all
yesterday, and he told me he had spent
it with the poor Ansdell*
, "They wished it, and I thought it was
hest to go."
"Yee, I am very glad you went."
Dr. Urquhart (of course I'ahall go en
calling him "Dr. Urquhart," to people
in general; nobody but me has any
business with his Christian name), Dr.
Urquhart looked at me and smiled; then
he began telling me about these friends
of his; and how broken-hearted the old
mother was, saving lost both her daught-
ers in • few months -did f remember
the night of the camp concert, and young
Ansdell who sung there 7
I remembered some young man being
called for, as Dr. Urquhart wanted him.
"Yes --I had to summon him home;
his eldest sister• had suddenly died.
Only a cold and fever -such as you your-
self might have caught that night -you
thoughtless girl. You little knew how
angry you made me."
" Did I 7 Something wee amiss with
you -I did not know what -but I saw it
in your looks."
"Could you read my looks even then,
little lady 7"
It was idle to deny it --and why should
1, when it made him happy 1 Raai•ntly
happy his fad was, now- the sharp lines
softened, the wrinkles smoothed out.
He looked ten years younger; eh! I am
glad 1 am only a girl still ; in time I shall
actually make him young.
Hem. the hall hell sounded -and
though visitors w never admitted to
this special little parlor, still Max turned
ratleaa, and amid he mast go.
•• Wine r'
He hesitated- and then said haati-
y" 1 will tell you the truth ; i am kap.
pier out of your sight than in it, just at
1 made ao answer.
" To -night 1 mem to stare- on that
journey 1 told you el." Which wan to
him • very palatal one 1 perceived.
" (in than, and get it over You will
Nome bock en me soon.
(god grant it lee we. very much
agnate.!
Bo he went $wy.
Thetis sore than a week ago, and I
keelboat ne letter; but he did not soy
he tttiwM write. He would maws Dose,
I shit* MINE laemrene j se, hear
*011111 at 4114
Nig Ihit atrip% hawed.
all
lhlt
loam; tat, Was, Alai
de !sear i Ton know, er yes will
know some day.
Illi Mary mad Bt Salvador, where be se eir'easmis Mielly sad easel, es I The next thingI e.11 to mind is being
spent eight yews, stedying for the akin- sea awakened by the out of a whip serueg
nary. I feel sere there is meta hid who But first, Wore you leers any Rates my shoulders, ea sMWc a o'40 standin
teem u t-Hge with kis-ha tided aka* tart, 1st sae bid yoga rasps er how over eke. I flew et his threat like a
keds they woad hs mow, gran 'I 1 �10s, how you phaitietate to tad creel re for 4 rats he- the
4tersts, eu saber nimMtsrs of She 1 lot lee ye
ghow s knee boss seine, ale who Wm
s . drunk
t ithsouatry imam. wives, yid beanies 'h ort and eye sad keedsr lips, you t me, "4 w$gji I see owl
--shat sue at IVs hit geoid mf" ee 1 km" rise were saint. tee emits alter [lett tIIIS with s Ivry ot
My. H FOS flitt. M him et Danio Mee these If i wwA the veriest wrqfthslits, MIN& Would to (Bitty* day
hart. Ion ante saw i1m ata moi st 'north Throagi ly ell osteo the tholViOst osl I►a
Seung five yeas my eider, he W al- loving, and yen did line sae. Not after las, sick and eatery, hall meq inward
moat ended his esrrien us when I bootee the fashion al those lads and lashes who whom I ought to have tesitsjled by
mane; besides, we were at dilsreat went courting sloag the Sours at 8t now.
alleges; but ws went through some Andrew's, but solemnly - deeply -ss , How he -the mai--soothed ase 1 d„
..segos together; a tam ea which I kook thawe lute who expect one day to be net know, but think it was by uff.rutg
bask with peeulisr gndsrmfs, ss I think husband and wife. Remember, we were to take in. toward Dallas He had a
all boys do who have Midis/ et 8s Ae- to have been married, Theedara, horse and gig standing by, and wad if 1
drew'* You Zeglish de not altogether I found my quickest route to Pau was would mount he would drive inc to the
know es Scotch. I have aeon hard- by Southampton to Havre. But in the soma, whence I could take boat t,
headed, possibly hard hearted seen, grim dusk of the iaoruing I mistook the arch; France. At least, tVt is the vegan is"
divines, stere military Daws, and selfish my luggage went direct, and Hound pression my mind retains of what passed
Anglo-IndIaa vaktadineriaao, melt to myself, having traveled some huun, un between us. He helped me up beside
ahs misdeals of a boy, as rho talked of the road -not to Southampton but to him, and I dosed off to sleep again.
their boyish days at Bt Andrew's. Salisbury. This was told me after some My next wakening was in the middle
Tea meter mw the piece, sy little jocularity, at what he thought a vastly of s desolate plain. I rubbed my eyes,
lady 1 Yen would him it, I know. To emssing piece of "greenness" on my but saw nothing except stars and sky,
sae, who have sot seen it tksoe twaaty pert, by the coachman. That is the and this black, black plain, which
yuuse, it still seems like a city in a gentleman who drove the coach. seemed to have no end.
dream I could laid roe, had -in -hand, He aeon took tare ti let me know he He pulled up, and told me to "tumble
through every oats of its quid old etir'eets, was a gentleman --sad that, like many out," which 1 did mechanically. On the
where yen so Beldam hear the now of young men of reek and fashion et that other side of the gig was something tall
'wowwisge or ort: ooald paint out time, he was acting Jshu ugly "for a and dark, which I took at first for ebalf-
the notable historical oorue e, and tell spree." He talked so large, I should way inn, but perceived it was only a
you which professor lived in this house, have taken him for a nobleman, or a huge sWne--o circle of stones,
and which in that; stela take you eking baronet at least -had he not accident- "Halloo ! what's this 1"
the Iinka, to the some of cm eelebreeed ly told ale his name; though he ex- '•Stonehenge -comfortable lodging for
golfing watch, calling ever this mums of plaiaed that it was not as humble u man and baric--eo you'ro all right
the principal players, including his who it steered, and oxpstiated leech upon Good -by, young fellow; you're such dull
won it ---s fine foliew he was, too ! the antiquity, wealth, and aristocratic company that I mean to leave you here
What became of him, I wonder 1 eonaootions of his "family." till morning."
ales, I could show you the exact spot His eonvemetiou, though loud and This was whet he mid to me, laughing
where you get the fined view of the coerce, was amusing, and he patronized uproarioualy. At tires I thought he was
Abbey and Bt. Regulus' Tower, and then me extremely. in feet, and laughed too; then, being
away back to our lodgings---DaWs's end I would rather not ay • word more spy and maudlin, I remonstrated.
mine -along the Scores, where, of moon than a neoemary coats ring thin Per- lastly, I got half frightened, fur when 1
light nights, the eldot and more menti- diOn; he is deed. A. before stated, 1 tried to caount he pushed in. down, 1
mental of the college lads would be never knew anything of him .zoeptmg was se helpless and he so strong; from
caught strolling with their sweethearts-- bis mass, which you shall have by -and- this solitary place, miles and miles frail
bonnie lassies too they were et 8t. An- by, but I guessed that his life hsd not say harem dwelling, how should 1 get
drew's-or we beheld them in all the been • creditable ono- He looked about on to Dallas 1 -Dallas, who, stupefied as
glamor of our toeaa, aid fine havers ws
CRAFT= XXV.
and STOAT.
My dear Theodore, I trust you may
never rad this letter, which, as • pre-
ventive measure, 1 am sbout to write; I
treat we may burn it together, and that
I may tell you its ecotone' at accidental
times, after one principal fact has been
oomsuniosted.
I mean to communicate it face to face,
by word of south. It will net ares so
awful then; and I shall see the expresioa
of your countenance on first hearing it.
That will guude me as to my own cos -
duct, sad as to the manner an wkich it
had bed be broken to your father. I
have hoped, at times, that, even after
each a eemmunicetion, his regard feu ss
will net altogether fail; and it may be
that his present opieiuns will not be in-
vincible. He may suggest same atone-
ment, some probation, however long or
painful I owe not, so that it ends in hi,
giving me you.
But first I ought to furnish him with
full information about things into which
I have never yet dared to inquire. I
shall do ao to-morrew. Much there-
fore, depends upon to -'morrow ! Such a
crisis almost unnerves me; add to that
the very sight of this plece;and Iwent by
thence to the mune inn, the White Heart,
Salisbury. When yea hays read this
letter through, you will not wonder that
this is a terrible night for me. 1 never
would have revisited this town, but in
the hope of learning every perticulsr, so
es to tell you and your father the truth
and the whole truth.
He will assuredly pity me The
thought of his own boy, your brother,
whom you once mentioned, and who
Mr. Johnston informed me " died
young " after some great dereliction--
this
ereliction-this thougnt navy make him deal gently
with me. Whether he will ever forgive
me, or receive me into his family, re-
mains doubtful. It is with the fear of
this, or any other possibility which I can-
not now foresee, that I write this letter,
in order that, whatever happens, my
Theodore may be acquainted with my
whole history.
My Theodore ! Some day, when she
comes to reads few pager which I seal
up to -night, marking them with her
name, and "To be deliyered to her after
my death," she will understand how I
have loved her. Otherwise, it never
could have been found eut, even by her
-for I am not a demonstrative man.
Only my wife would have known
it.
In case this letter, and them other
letters, do reach you, they will then be
your last mementoes of me. Bead them
and burn theta; they are solely meant
for you.
Should all go well, so that they become
needless, we will, as I said, burn them
together, read or unread, as you choose.
Yuu shall do it with your own hand, sit-
ting by me at our own fireside. Our
fireside. The thought of it -the terror
of losing it, makes me almost ''powerless
W write on. Will you ever find out how
I love you, my love --my love !
I begin by reminding you that I have
been long aware your name is not pro-
perly Johnston. You told me your -
my child, let me go." self that the t had been inserted of late
And he might have gone -being very years. That you are not en aristo-
obstinate, and not in the least able to creme, but a plebeian family. My
see what is good for him or for me either thankfulness at learning this, you will
-had it not fortunately happened • that, understand afterward.
over -powered with the excitement of the That cathedral clock -hew it has start -
last ten minutes, my small strength gave led me ! Striking twelve with the same
way. 1 felt 'myself falling -tried to save tongue as it did twenty years ago. Were
myself by catching hold of Max's arm, I superstitious, I might fancy I heard in
and fell. When I awoke, I was lying on the coffee -room below, the clink cif glass -
the rota, with paps and Mrs. Granton es, the tune of "Glorious Apollo," and
beside me. the " Bravo, " of that uproarious
Also Max -though I did not at first voice.
see him. He had taken his rights, er The town is hardly the least altered -
they had been tacitly yielded to him; I except that I came in by railway instead
do not know how it was, but my head of by coach, it might be the very same
was on my betrothed husband's breast. Salisbury on that very same winter's
So he staid. Nobody asked any night -the quaint, quiet English town
questions and he himself explained that 1 stood looking at from this same
nothing. He only set by me, all after- window --its streets shining with rain,
noon, taking care of me, watching me and its lights glimmering hen and then
with his eyes of love -the leve that is to through the general gloom. How 1
last me my whole life. 1 know it will.
Therefore, in the evening. it wee 1
who was the first to say. "Now, Max,
you must go. "
stared, boy -like, till he came behind and
slapped me on the shoulder, But I have
a few things to tell you before i tell you
the history of that night Let me delay
"You are quite better 7 it as long se 1 can.
"Yee, and it is almost dark it will be You know about my father and moth -
very dark across the m.ror. Yuu must er, and how they both died when Deaths
go and I were children H e bad no near
He roes, and stook hands mechanically kindred; we had to take care .4 oerael-
with paps an.1 Mrs. Granton. He wee vs -or, either, he took core of se; he
going to do the seine by me, but i loosed was almost aa good e a father to me,
my hands and clasped time round hie from the tune he wee twelve years
neck. 1 did act ears Ins what anybody old.
might my or think; he was mine and 1 Let me say • word or two more about
was bis- they were x11 weleome to know my brother iaellaa if ever there wm a
it And 1 wished him to know and feel perfect rho steer on this earth hi weenie'.
that, tbrnegh everything, and in spite of Ivory *nature who knew his thought
everything, i - -hs own loved him and the soma 1 doubt net the memory .,f
would love him is the tut him .til) ling.'s on rhos. .IA Naoistsrs of
talked to them along those Scorn, to the
sound of the sea below. I can bear it
now. What a roar it used to Dome in
with, on stormy nights, against those
rocks beyond the Castle, where a lad and
his tutor were once both drowned !
I am forgetting myself, and ell I had
to tell you. It is a long time Una I
have spoken of those old days.
Theodora, I should like you some time
to go and see St Andrew's. Go there,
in any twee, and take a look at the old
place. You will likely find, in 8t.
Mary'. cloisters, on the third even to
the right hand as you enter, my initial's
and Dallas's; and if you eek, some old
janitor tar librarian may still remember
"the two Urquhart." -that is, if you
like to name us. But go, if you can.
Faithful heart ! I knew you will always
care for anything that concerned me.
All the happy days of my life were
spent at St Andrew's They lasted un-
til Dallas fell ill, and had to go abroad et
once. I was to follow, and stay with
him the winter, miming thereby one
session, for he did not like to petit with
me. Perhaps he foreme his end, which
I, boy -like, never thought of, for I was
accustomed to his being always delicate;
perhaps he knew what a lad of nineteen
might turn out, left to himself.
I was "left to myself," in our Scotch
interpretation of the phrase; which, po
doubt, originated in the stern Presby-
terian belief of what human nature is,
abandoned by God. "Left to himself."
Many a poor wretch's more wretched
parents know what that means.
How it came shout I do not call to
mind, but I found myself in London, my
own master, spending mono like dross,
and spending what was worse, my time,
my conscience, my innocence. How low
I fell, Goa knows, for It hardly know
myself ! Things which happened after-
ward made me oblivious even of this
time. While it lasted, I never once
wrote to Dallas.
A letter from him, giving no special
reason for my joining him, but urging
me to come, and quickly, madame recoil
conscience-stricken from the Gehenna
into which I was falling. You will find
the letter the last I had from him, in
this pocket: read it, and burn it with
mine. Of course, no one has ever seen
it, or will ever see it, except yourself.
i started from London immediately,
in greet restlessnese and anguish of
mind; for though i had been no worse
than my neighbors, or 10 bed as many
of them ---I knew what Dallas was -and
how his pun life, sanctified, though 1
guessed it not, by the shadow of coining
death, would look beside this evil life of
mine. I was very miserable; and a lad
not used to misery is then in the quick -
mends of temptation. He is grateful to
any one who will save him from hint's!?
-give him s nsreotie and let his torment
deep.
i mention this Daly es • fact, not an
exteeisation. neigh, to .orae degree,
Mex ('rgnher•t the roan has law sines
learned to pity Max Urquhart the boy.
- H ere I pawl to red this over,
sed ase if 1 hews .aid el] i wished them
ia The narrative seems else Ton
will pereeuve 1 try se much se i ata 10
make it • men history se d of soother
perene, and thus tar I shish I fines dine
«• The red L nes proteid 'o toll yea
thirty, ora little elder. I wee, still remained my prominent
Wbeu the coach lopped-st the very thought.
inn wharo I am now writing, the White 1 begged, s if I had been begging for
Hart, Salisbery-he insisted on my my life, that he would keep his promise,
stopping too, as it was a bitter cold and take me on my way toward my
night, and the moon would not rise till brother.
two in the morning. He said that, I "To the devil with your brother
might as II. and be whipped his horse on.
Finally he let the coach go on without The devil was in me, as I said I
us, and I heard him laying a bet to drive sprang at him, my strength doubled and
across $sllisbury Plain in a gig or dog- trebled with rage, and catching him un -
cart, and meet it again on the road to aware., dragged him from the gig, and
Devizes by daybreak next morning. threw him violently on the ground His
The landlord lamghed and advised him heed struck against one of the great
to give up such a msd "neck -or -nothing" stones--end--end—
freak; but he swore, and mid be always Now, you see how it was. I murdered
went at everything "neck -or nothing." him. Hs mud have died easily -in -
I can remember to this day nearly stanteneously; he never moaned nor
every word he uttered, and his manner stirred once; but, for all that, it was
of saying it. Under any circumstances murder.
this might have been the case, for he Net with intent, God known So
n
attracted me, bad as I felt him to be, ( little idea had I he wan dead, that I
with his bold, devil-may-care jollity, I shook him as he lay, told him to "get up
mixed with a certain English frankness ynd fight it out;" oh, my God! my God !
Thus I have told it, the secret, which
until now has never been written or
spoken to any human being. I was then
nineteen -I am now nine -and -thirty;
twenty years. Theodore, have pity;
only think of carrying such a secret
the blood of a man, on one's conscience
for twenty years !
If, instead of my telling you all thta,
se I may do in s few days, you should
have to read it here, it will by then have
become an old tale. Still pity me.
To continue, for it is getting fax on into
the night.
The first few minutes after I discov-
ered what I had done, you will not ex
pest me to•speak of.
not unpleasant. He was a small, dark
msn,holluw-eyed and dissipated looking.
Hie face- no, better not call up his
face.
I was persuaded to slay and drink
with this man and one or two others,
regular topers, as I soon found he was.
He appeared poor too; the drinking wan
to be at my expense. I was very proud
to have the honor of entertaining such a
clever and agreeable gentleman.
Once, watching him and listening" to
his conversation, sudden doubt seised
me of tibia Dallas would think .d my
new acquaintance, and what he would
say, or look he seldom reproved aloud -
were he to walk in and find me in this
present company. And supper being
done, I tried to get away, but this man
held me by the shoulder*, mocking me,
and setting the rest on to mock me as a
'milksop." The good angel fled. From
that moment, I believe, the devil enter-
ed both into him and me.
I got drunk. It was tor the first time
in my life, though more than once lately
I had been "merry," but stopped at
that stage. This time I stopped at
nothing. My blood was at boiling heat,
with just enough of conscience left to
make me snatch at any mew to deaden
it.
Of the details of that orgie, or of
those who joined in it, azospt this one
person, I have, a was likely, no distinct
recollection. They were habitual
drinkers; none of them had any pity for
me, and I-1 was utterly "left to my-
self," se I have said. A raw, Scotch lad,
I soon became the butt of the company.
The last thing i remember is their
trying to force mo to tell my name,
which hitherto I lied not dune, first
from natural reserve among strangers,
and then from an instinctive feeling that
1 wee not in the most creditable of soc-
iety, and therefore the lees I raid about
myself the better. All I had told was,
that I was us my wee to Thames be joie
my brother, who was ill. They amid
not gid say more out of me them ihst
A few tamale, which some Leith p.mpls
are rather lou reedy to sea alpine e
Bsotsh, mads ms savage as wallas soi-
Ise. I might have damned it, se net --
I oenaot toll bat the end was, they
tamed ass out the obstinate, drunken,
iafana sd lad into the street
1 staggered through the dark. nkat
town vete a lane , r., ru;rer on the
relic •.was
1 wen perfectly sober now. I had
tried every means in my power td re-
nve him; and then to ascertain for cer-
tain that he was dead; I forgot to tell
you 1 had already begun my classes in
medicine, so I knew a good deal. I sat
with his head on my knee, fully aware
that i had taken the life of a man, and
that his blood would be upon me forever
and ever.
Nothing short of the great condemo
anon of the last judgment -day could
parallel that horror of despair; ander it
m7 reason gave way. I was seised with
the delusion that, bed and cruel man ss
he wee, he was only shamming to terrify
me. i held him up in my arms, so that
the light of the gig-laaups fell full on his
face
[m se. coKttxose. ]
All errors spring up in the neighbor-
hood of some truth, they grow round
about for the meet part derive
their strengthitand 1
rom suck oentaguuty.
One of the hardest lemmaa to learn in
life is that the men who dills a from you,
not only in opinions but in princu-
Plea, rmay be s boast ad nater* s
ynereelf.
Berdoek Blood Bitten curet Scrofula
and all humors of the Blood, Lever, Kid-
neys end abs Bowels at tks e.aae time,
while it allays nervous xri%.isw sad
sad tones up the debilitated masa it
oars all humors tree a pihspla to the
worst forma of /sseftil► %e sale by all
dealers S.spls bosIle 1N aside, regaYr
doe
Croup, that sirs disease, he lest d
Isamu to thins who TAN/ Oil ai
heat Tensaw OY sir stew eon
maths the sad Info{
one
lathe
M grand event( sedds•n climate AO'
yeti- dr. ,•.• i• t 'e- Ragyettl's \ Ales"
t i' f
W his
btttend
us Inca
help is
our or
suffris
in wait
stvengt
help th
or Dona
their lm
osnipe
their to
who he
Whs
able, gr
we mer
power o
times s
cal int
reason
preaea
poach
passes
her u'
human
more t
Eden
from
delight
truubl
them.
A ti
band's
theta 1
not in
cur, 5
most 1
Lngui
quires
prone
let no
anyth
scion.
needs
Men I
e theme
utten
fel, t<
for mel
are ria
they t
Thu
under
thing
insult
been
the f<
cide;
act.
to be
r5 ea
tutee
whnc]
temp
ever]
the t
moat
lute
into.
urea
h. at
f,oun
PP nit
by t
char
eau;{
l ie
J
w•h'
prin
anci
d ret
does
onto
whc
1'ro
the
the
But
gen
ma
me
W0I
Shu
go(
ant
an
kn
a
ot
be
Sh
far
mei
ce
m
w
hi
fit
al
at
h
to
a
c
1
1