About this time our child died. I dare not think of his death-how it was brought on. The poor child might have lived longer-perhaps he might, but he complained of cold sometimes, of wanting clothes; and sometimes his cry for bread was in vain. It was a great shock to my wife; and her gradual failing day by day for a time sobered me and made me thoughtful. But what had I to do with reflection? The past was made up of sharp points, and when I turned to it I was pierced! and the future-ha! ha! what could I anticipate? what was there in store for me? So I closed my ears-shut my heart to the starving, dying condition of Eliza, and become-a brute again! unwarily behind him; and grasping with one hand his collar and with the other his trunk, in a gruff voice I demanded his money. The words were barely uttered before I was grappled by the throat. He was a strong man, and he had a dangerous hold. I put forth all my strength to shake of his grasp, striking him at the same time in the face and breast, but without avail : he still kept his hold. Finding that something decisive must be done, for I could with difficulty breathe, I clasped him round the middle, and giving a sudden jerk we both fell to the ground. I fell underneath and he had me in his power. I struggled in vain to free myself. He still held me by the throat, and began to cry for assistance. What was to be done? I had a jack-knife in my pocket-there was no time for reflection--my left hand was free-it was the work of a moment--the hot blood spurted from his heart full in my face. His hold relaxed and giving a terrible groan he rolled on the the trunk: as I moved away in the darkness, the deathrattle in the throat of my victim came fearfully to my ears. What followed, until I found myself chained in this dreary dungeon, I know not. I have a faint recollection of flying from the dreadful spot where lay the dying man ;-of being aroused in the morning by the officers of justice ;-of a court room, where were displayed the trunk found in my possession, and a knife taken from the breast of the corpse with my name on the handle. I have a more distinct recollection of an after trial and of a condemnation; and to-morrow, the jailer tells me, I am to die--to be pulicly executed. I acknowledge the justness of my punishment—I deserve death; and may God show mercy to him who showed no mecry. STORY OF AN IDIOT. It was in the evening of a wet, cloudy day, that I sallied forth from my boarding hovel of shame and sin, to learn the fate of my last ticket! The woman with whom I boarded was clamorous for her day. That night I told her I expected some money. I had a ticket; from that I expected to realize something. This was my last tick-ground in agony. I sprang upon my feet and snatched et. To obtain it, I had to dispose of a Bible, which had belonged to my late wife-my dead Eliza and which was the dying gift of her mother. It was the last thing I held that belonged to her. One by one had I disposed of what little effects she left, to gratify my passion for drinking and gambling. I had lost all feelings of shame. My wife had been dead two years. During her life for her sake I was not entirely shunned-for her sake some little respect was shown me. But when she was taken away, and her friends found I did not reform they abandoned me to my fate, and I became truly an outcast—an outcast from the society of the virtuous. I blame no one-it was my own fault. I was advised urged by all that was dear in life-by my wife's dying prayer-by the hopes and fears of an hereafter, to restrain my vicious propensities, and walk in the paths of virtue. But I would not hear them-I laughed them to scorn. So they left me in my stubbornness. A LONG time ago there was a poor idiot who, being The ticket I now had was to seal my fate. I had quite harmless, was permitted to wander whither he fasted more than one day to obtain means to purchase would, and receive charity at every house in his reguit; I had even stinted my drink for means, so strong lar rounds. His name was Ned of the Todden. He was my passion for gambling. Well, I went to the of-lived with his mother, and there was no other in the fice and called for the prize list. At a glance I saw my hopes were frustrated; and crushing the list convulsively in my hand, I muttered a deep oath and stalked out of the office. That ticket indeed sealed my fate. "The world owes me a living, and a living I will have!" I said to myself, as I turned away with a desparing heart and walked up the street. My mind was suddenly made up to a strong purpose. "There is money!" I said between my teeth, as I sauntered, slowly along, meditating a desperate deed. I knew not the time of night; it was late, however, for the stores were all closed, when a man brushed by me. As he passed I saw it was the vender of tickets-the man who sold me the "first and the last ticket!”—the man to whom I had paid dollar after dollar of money until all was gone. He had a trunk in his hand, and was probably going home. "This man," thought I, "has received from me even to the latest farthing; shall I not be justified in compelling him to return a part? at least, ought he not be made to give something to relieve my misery-to keep me from starving ?" Such was my inconsistent reasoning, as I buttoned my jacket, and slowly followed him. Before reaching his house, he had to pass over a long lonely space where there were no houses, and at that time of the night but little passing. He had gone over half this space, when I stepped quickly and family; it is remarkable that idiots are always particularly beloved by their mothers, doubtless because they always continue in a state as helpless and dependent as in infancy. This poor fellow, in return was equally fond of his mother, his love toward her, was the only feeling which he was capable of, and that feeling was proportionably strong. The mother fell sick and died; of death, poor wretch, he knew nothing; and it was in vain to hope to make him comprehend it. He would not suffer them to bury her, and they were obliged to put her in a coffin unknown to him, and carry her to the grave, when as they imagined, he had been decoyed away to a distance. Ned of the Todden, however, suspected that something was designed, watched them secretly, and as soon as it was dark, opened the grave, took out the body and carried it home. Some of the neighbors compassionately went into the cottage to look after him, they found the dead body seated in its own place in the chimney corner, a large fire blazing which he had made to warm her, and the idiot son with a large dish of pap, offering to feed her. "Eat, mother," he was saying, "you used to like it!" Presently wondering at the silence, he looked at the face of the corpse, took the dead hand to feel it, and said, "Why d'ye look so pale mother? why be you so cold?" |