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§ERMS,* PEK ANNUM IS ADVANCE. SECOND YEAR, NO. 3 WHOLE NO. 53.
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For Richardd’ Weekly Gazette.
STANZAS IN APRIL.
I!Y WM. GILMORE SIMMS.
A few light drifts of fleecy snow,
And all the skies are bright again.
While gusts of March subdued, now blow,
In murmurs only o’er the plain ;
They speak of milder guests at hand,
And gentler powers that take the sway,
■Sweet nymphs of Spring, a joyous band,
That dance around the maiden, May !
Ah ! precious flow’rs, that, to the heart,
Appeal, with promise long to cheer;
Beneath my feet, I see ye start,
In token of the awakening year ;
Even while the snow drift sweeps the plain,
Your leaves of blue are gleaming low,
Above the very spot again,
Which made your graves a year ago.
Ye had your mission fr awhile,
I And served as teachers sweet of love,
As infant souls appear to smile,
Then flee, to tempt our souls nbove ;
A thousand seasons hence, when f,
Within a grave like yours recline,
My children shall your blossoms spy,
And muse with grateful thoughts like mine.
JVoorilani/s, S. C.
r.r.u.s &© 2i a asm, 1
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For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
THE NEW ARIA:
A TALE OF TRIAL AND TRUST.
8
BY .1. M. LEGARI2.
CHAPTER FIRST.
■ln the principal street of a Southern Ci
ty. stands a house somewhat lofty and
imposing in appearance, and adorned with
tijii shrubbery in front, which, in the long
course of years, has in turn been occupied
hi numerous tenants, some of whom have
lef their names upon the window panes,
tmeed in an idle fit, possibly while gazing
oil listlessly on a rainy day—and others,
tir taste or distate displayed in improve
nfcits within or without the building; but
fMm all these, it is the purpose of this tale
tii eparate and distinguish two —a husband
of twenty-six, and a still more youthful
far from dawn one bleak November
wi ning, the then master of this house as
cAuled the marble steps, flushed, excited,
bit less, and with dress awry—and passing
in, drew a seat by the fire still smouldering
in one of the frequented rooms, and sat |
wiih his chin upon his clenched hands,
pfcpped upon his knees, abandoned to bit
tat musings.
cursed fate!” he cried repeatedly be
■ft en his teeth, but in a suppressed tone ;
“a cursed black fate, without one gleam of
h#; ie. Yes, now lam lost, soul and body!” !
Hffe had lit a candle in the hall and plac
el it on the mantel shelf, and so soon af
t® his entrance that the llame of this had
bit just begun to burn brightly, a comfort
el came to him from the opposite chamber,
dressed, but the prettier for that
ur -tudied negligence, with soft brown hair
twisted into a knot on her neck,
aid all traces of recent tears washed from
face and eyes. She knelt down un-
close bes Me him, removed bv
gt itle force the rather sullen arm from his
k: ’e, and with her cheek laid upon her
clipped hands, looked up into his eyes,
without a word. The husband acknowl
edged her presence by an endeavor to turn
Be current of his.thoughts, and smoothing
l|e head under his hand, said deprcca
'l'gly
I “ Why, Lu, I did not think to find you
■l 1: you aie not acci stomeiljo do so!”
“ I was not up,” she replied ; “but soft
as you walked across the hall, I heard
Hou. and when you entered this room, I
4 aid not hear, dear love, to lie awake and
imagine you suffering all alone the weight
of this misfortune, whatever it is, which
has made you so unmistakably unhappy
for days past.”
He gratefully caressed the soft cheek
and temples for a moment, but his eyes
went back to the embers, and his thoughts
to the misfortune, before she had well ceas
ed speaking.
“ Dear, dear husband, tell me all that is
in your heart; it cannot make me so mise
rable to hear the very worst, as to be Shut
out from your confidence, as now. I, too,
who used to be so proud above all things,
to say to myself—He lias not a thought or
hope in this wide world, unshared with his
wife!”
“ You do not know what you ask,” he
returned, touched by her words, and half
wavering; but immediately after, as if an
instant’s reflection had strengthened his
resolution—“No, no: from me you must
never hear it. Oh! that I had died—died
a thousand deaths—before I brought woe
to a fireside that is yours !”
Shocked by his sudden vehemence and
the expression of his face, the young wife
shrank into silence, but her eyes eagerly
watched the changes of his countenance,
while her cheek pressed almost convulsive
ly his knee, round which her arms were
locked.
“Harry, my own,” she said at last, but
so softly that her voice scarcely broke the
stillness, “do you remember when we were
quite young and only lovers, that in ram
bling through the woods together, we came
to a dark and swift stream, just emerging
from the swamp, and crossed by a single
plank, so slender that I was sure it would
never sustain my weight in the middle,
HlUlll
to go before, because, you said, it was
quite elastic and would not break, as you
had often tested, but bent only and some
times dipped a little below the surface : and
therefore you wished me to cross first, shat
I might cross dryshod. But I still doubt
ed and stood watching the rushing water,
until you exclaimed, almost reproachfully,
1 If you will not rely on yourself, at least
trust in me/’ And then I answered, be
cause it was in my heart, and would be
out, in spite of myself as it were, ‘Yes,
that I will do always!’ and was already
on the opposite bank, trembling, but happy
in finding all just as you had said.”
“ Yes, I recollect.”
He had been brooding again, with fin
gers interlocking one another as rigid as
iron, and with a frowning brow : but she
gently undid their clasp, and drawing his
arm around her slender waist, stood half
erect, kissing his forehead and smoothing
away its furrows with her hand.
“ And long after that, when we had been
long betrothed, and you in the eagerness of
your love could not consent to await the
hopeless ‘ yea’ of your uncle, but urged
upon me a secret marriage for the time be
ing—and in my bosom the yearnings of my
own heart struggled with the more prudent
remonstrance my lips uttered, ‘ that a young
girl's good fame is her costliest treasure,
and that should I, for having risked it, even
for your sake, at some day appear unwor
thy in your eyes— ’ but here, when I had
looked full into those eyes as 1 named
them, I saw the same sorrowful reproach
which had stirred my heart by the swamp
stream, although now you spoke no words
—and straight forgetting all things but the
might of love in my soul, again I crossed
upon the unsteady bridge the dark creek,
and lay upon your bosom, sobbing, ‘ I am
: yours—yes, yours only, now and forever!’ ”
“ My own generous, best-loved wife !”
“ And later still, when nearly a year had
elapsed, and we sat for the first evening in j
this room, the possessors of all we had co- j
veted, (he was now earnestly regarding,
her, but furtively,) have you forgotten how
you drew me close, closer, to you, and said,
so fervently that I believed you with all
my soul, ‘ I will never have a secret hence
forward, from the wife of my bosom; all
my heart shall be as open to these loving .
eyes as to mine own !’ And when 1 ask- j
ed, why not have omitted that word 1 hence-,
forward,’ you returned, smiling, ‘Well,:
omit it, then.’ Perhaps I would have quite ,
forgotten these minute details, had they not
been impressed upon my mind, I believe,
by your, at that very instant, drawing away
the hand I was about to kiss, and yielding
me the other, saying, ‘There, that one, if
you will, you silly child!’ for I thought it
an odd whim at the time; but your very
oddities were dear to me then, as they are
now.”
As she spoke, she raised his right hand,
which she had unlocked, to her lips, but
he drew it swiftly away, almost rudely,
and strode across the room with an unstea
dy step, leaning head and arm upon the
mantel shelf, with a suppressed groan.
Sick and faint, for a single instant, felt
her heart, as if under the influence of a
nameless horror; but the depths of her
woman's nature were stirred, and in ano
ther moment, she had knelt once more at
his feet, embracing him with her whole
strength, and pleading with such words of
passionate energy, that when, at the close,
she cried between fast-falling tears that
would not be restrained, “You will break
my heart if you leave me in this fearful
doubt any longer, and do not tell me all
and, after a brief pause, “Am I not your
own, own wife ?” the demon within him
was driven out at once and forever, and
taking her as a child in his arms to a couch
dose by, pressed her wildly and more close
ly to his breast than he had even done the
first evening to which she had referred,
murmuring—
“As God is my witness, and reads my \
inmost thoughts, I will hide nothing, noth- i
ing, from you now, my true wife, my guar- ;
dian angel!”
“ I know,” he re-commenced, after a j
painful silence, “that you long since learn
ed many of these details; but that you
may better appreciate those of which you ;
are ignorant, I will leave nothing material
unrelated, for otherwise I might inadver- ,
tently omit the portion most essential to ,
render the remainder clear. That I was a
penniless orphan, and from boyhood adopt- j
ed by my wealthy uncle, himself childless, j
you well know ; and how that, although
generous, and commonly reported of easy [
temper, the master trait of his character |
was a hard, stern unforgivingness, when j
once deeply offended, which was nursed in j
no small degree by the passionate temper- .
ament that had wrecked his hopes on the j
.v. of marriage in his youth, and now
lurked mouldering under the ashes of sixty
years in his breast. He had lost his seat
in ‘he Senate through the opposing influ
ence of your father, and this, with the ac- i
cidental flooding of one of his fields by the
break ing of the latter’s reservoir-dam, which
in his rage he ascribed to deliberate malice,
was sufficient to breed a hatred that lasted,
fed as it was, from time to time, by trifling
events, to the very last hour of his exist
ence. A day of unconcealed satisfaction
was it for him, when lands, negroes,
stock, were all swept from your family with
scarce a warning, as if he foresaw and hug
ged himself in the thought, that privation
and anxieties hitherto unknown, would
soon thin the household of his quondam |
opponent, and leave you, a sole, frail blos
som, upon the bush that had once with its
thorns pricked his fingers. And when,on- ,
ly a year after, I stood in his library, en
deavoring to win his consent to a union j
with your sweet self, and showed that if ;
his long animosity were not already buried
in the grave, it might he even more worthi- i
ly now, in a marriage in which two young j
hearts had staked their all—his bristling
gray eyebrows gathered slowly, porten- j
tously, like a thunder-cloud, over the eyes j
not yet deprived of their fire by age, and j
scarce waiting to hear me to an end, he bid j
me begone, mafrry a beggar, and be a beg
gar myself. Then he bent over his wri- :
ting table for full a minute, as if unaware ;
of my continued presence; hut at the end i
of that time, the rage seething and gather- j
ing in his bosom burst forth with uncou- |
trollable fury, and in the most galling words j
his bitter tongue could utter, denounced -
and cast me off forever. I could have j
borne all this calmly—l did bear it calm- j
ly; but when a vile thought flashed across
his brain, and turning the torrent of his
abuse from me, he poured upon your inno- !
cent head every term of shame your sex !
can suffer, 1 became beside myself; what
, I said 1 cannot tell ; that’ I did nothing
| criminal, I can only thank God—for we
■ were two madmen there together : and aj
j madman in my choking passion I continu
! ed, until calmed and rendered at least in
part reasonable, by your sympathy, ca
; resses, and comforting words. You did
more ; you endeavored to convince me that
1 was wrong; that I owed a debt of grati
j tude no mere harsh words should cancel;
j and that the best and noblest course would
| be to return, confess my culpability, and
, promise no more to refer to a subject which
had cost him so much apparent pain and
mortification. I remeinbcvr that you rea
j soned well, eloquently, after your own gen
-1 tie fashion, for you spoke from the depth
of a pure and God-loving heart, and that
I listened with a strange, listless pleasure,
during the re-action succeeding the late
\ hurricane in my soul, but in no wise con
vinced, for I argued to myself that even
your forgiving spirit could not have survi
ved a recital of the whole interview.—
I Thus matters continued ten days or a fort
; night, at the end of which period, my pas
sion had sufficiently cooled to allow the
promptings of former gratitude and affec
tion to be heard; besides, you had yielded
to my entreaties, and become in very deed
my wife, and, so far, I had nothing to risk;
and thus yielding at last to your earnest
wishes, I stood once more in the hall I had
sworn, during my paroxysm, never to re
enter. But startlingly ill news awaited
me; my uncle was on his death-bed, in a
third fit of apoplexy, and the physician
who had but just quitted the house, had in
formed the servants he could not exist two
hours longer at the mo3t. At that awful
moment, I forgave or forgot everything,
flew up stairs, dismissed the nurse from his
chamber, and throwing myself on my knees
by the bedside, took his cold hand in both
of mine, and gave way unrestrainedly to
remorse and sorrow. While my proud na
ture was thus bowed to the earth in peni
tence, a motion of the bed-clothes drew
my attention, and I saw that the dying man
had partially revived, and with eyes wide
open stared me in the face, but without re
cognition. Presently he seemed to recall
my features, and a distorted gleam of sat
isfaction flushed his countenance, while
mumbling a request twice or thrice, which
f caught at last and obeyed, by searching
in his private escrutoire and fetching him
his will. Such appearing.to he his wish,
I spread the scroll on the bed before him,
and one hand being capable of motion,
with tremulous, crooked finger, he desig
nated a section, in which it was provided,
that in case of my persisting in making
you my wife, the entire
ing a pittance of three hundred a year, ‘to
keep me from the gallows’—a parenthesis
showed—should pass into other hands.
From the writing, my eyes returned to his
face: the scoffing smile had gradually pass
into n hidpnuA un-in of I laid
him back on the pillows, closed the eyes
and mocking mouth, and turning away,
wept like a child. I was totally unman
ned, so awful and unexpected did this ven
geance, on the brink of eternity, for an un
signed offence, appear. But the fit did not
last long: what was the lifeless clay stretch
ed a few feet from me, or his last injunc
tion, induced as it was by motives almost I
diabolical, compared with the mere thought
of the wife of my bosom, and her happi
ness and care. I had little time for reflec
tion, and decided promptly : a faint smell
of burnt leather from the fire-place, being
all that remained, in a few moments, of the
despotic injunction ot the late master of
the house. I then rang the bell violently,
summoned the nurse and servants, and
having given the needful directions, retired
to the library, the very room in which our
last stormy interview had occurred. There
I found two sealed letters addressed to me
in my uncle’s hand: one had been written
soon after his recovery from the first attack,
which, it seemed, must have seized upon
Him before I was well out of the house,
brought on by excessive clioler. The con
tents were very brief, merely informing me
that he had made anew will, cutting me
off, in favor of his sister's family, with a
legacy of one hundred a year, and desiring
not to see my face again ; this note, I af
terwards learned, was ordered to be given
me at the door, should I at any time make
my appearance there. The second, dated
after the second fit and while in expecta
tion of a last, was designed to take the
place of the other, for after repeating the
contents of the first epistle but in some
what milder language, it stated, that for
sufficient reasons the writer had altered his
mind and now left me again his whole
estate, provided always I did not run coun
ter to his known wishes, in which case the
legacy (as 1 have already said) was in
creased to three hundred ; and it was added
below, probably to better convince me of
the inutility of stubbornness, that the will
referred to was at the time of writing, al
ready in existence. Here then at the very
moment I was congratulating myself on ;
i having secured wealth to my wife—for
[ you, you only, were in my thoughts—by
what I considered well timed firmness and ;
energy of action, my highest hopes were
crushed and my mind thrown into a state
of unforeseen doubt anil dismay. As to
having destroyed, apparently, mysoletitle
to the property, I did not for a moment re
gret the deed, for it would have been better
to labor for daily bread, than become a
millionnaire with the annexed proviso.—
The most vexing feature of the business
was that neither name nor initials of the
conditional legatee were given, and my
first intimation of my uncle’s possessing
any other relative than myself, was con
tained in these two letters: had I not known
his stern adherence to truth when his pas
sionate nature was not active, I would have
regarded the threat as a mere designing
fiction. In vain I searched drawers, desks,
and deed-boxes; no corner was left unpried
1 into, and yet nowhere could 1 discover the
will designated, and which I then conclud
ed must have been placed in the hands of
a solicitor or other third party, for sate
keeping. Would to God the matter had
rested here; Would to God 1 had possessed
the courage to say to you without equivo
cation or concealment; “My own wife,
we are no longer rich even in hope—can
you endure penury, aud love me still I”
But no, a demon stood atmy elbow—.it was
too much, I could not face the thought!
How much easier, by a stroke of the pen
to transform the cypher into an eight, in
the old deed - 1 had found during my search,
which had been signed iu full, eight years
before, vesting the property of every sort
solely and unconditionally in myosin per
son. . “Certainly,”—urged the tempter —
“you cannot doubt that this occurrence is
providential; for see, the remainder of the
date corresponds precisely to the present
month and day, and to secure to your wife
—mind, not to yourself, to your wife and
future children—this princely fortune, all
that is necessary for you to do, is to cross
the middle of this little cypher, and cause
it to be read, instead of “13th January,
1830,” —the “13th January, 1838,” thus
placing out of reach of challenge, since by
the contents of this first note, it is evident
the deed, the production of which you
dread, was signed not less than a week
ago, whereas this in your grasp was—or
will be —dated only three days since !”
“ And this,” cried the speaker, with a
burst of no longer controllable grief, “was
the will through which I inherited; and
why I drew back my hand from your in
nocent lips.”
“My husband—my poor, poor, erring
husband !”—was all the listener could ut-
L V. _ . V . .U- l % .L 4V *
him with a wild love iu her eyes which
said without speech :—I am yours— yours’
Though you break my heart, yet will 1
love you forever!
CHAPTER SECOND.
When they were both somewhat calmer,
the narrative was resumed :
“There was a circumstance which es
caped my notice, trivial at first sight, hut
daily growing in magnitude, and daily,
hourly, haunting me wherever I might
turn. After the will had been duly ad
ministered—the conditional heir, strange to
say, neither appearing nor disputing in any
manner the validity of my claim—l casu-’
ally learned, from one of the old servants,
that my uncle had lain wholly insensible
for four days preceding his death, with the
exception of the brief moment of conscious
ness, of which no one knew hut myself.
When you recollect that my testament was
dated only three days before his end, you
can understand the difficulty I found in
preserving any thing approaching a calm
demeanor, while I asked: ‘Was any one
with him from the first of this final at
tack ?’ ”
“ Yes—the physician : the nurse came
before he left, however.”
“Are you quite sure he did not revive
once during the whole fit!”
“ Quite sure, for the nurse never left the
room, sleeping by the fire in an easy chair;
and it was her statement he quoted.”
A fearful game! But it was too late,
now, to retract. I trembled tothink of the
consequences, had the nurse been present
at the reading of the testament, or had the
family physician, who was, detected the
inconsistency. And I, all. the while, had
sat listening calmly, even self-triumphant
!y, while the crisis drew near, and passed
without my knowledge ; when a half do
zen words from the mouth of one of the
auditors, —“Why, how is this? my pa
tient was surely insensible three days ago,
which was the thirteenth of the month !”
would have fallen like a thunderbolt among
us, and opened all eyes to the forgery. It
was almost miraculous! yes, a devil’s mi
racle ! but I breathed freely again.
But this sense of safety lasted not long:
the deed still existed—was even recorded.
What hindered any one, who might learn
the circumstances of my uncle’s death—
nay, what hindered the physician, or the
nurse herself, from stumbling on the truth i
sooner or later—to-day, or to-morrow, or
years hence ? It was of no avail to at
tempt to reason myself into the improba
bility of the thing: at every step, at every !
turn, I was confronted by the same resist- ’
| less threat. At last, I grew desperate : at!
! least, 1 said, if I am to be despoiled of both |
; riches and reputation, at some day, 1 will
i not have it, to reproach myself with, that 1
failed to enjoy the former while in my
i [lower, even if the blow falls the next
hour; and, with this worse than specious
reasoning, I plunged headlong into the
most boundless extravagance. It was ea
sy to persuade you that our wealth was
j more princely than it really was, and to
hide your unsuspicious happiness, which
stung me like a wrong, from my eyes, by
surrouuding you with every costly luxury
heart could desire : and even when no
mean fortune fell into your hands, through
the dyiug caprice of a distant ‘•ousin, who
had not deigned to notice you during pov
erty, I made you promise to scarce touch
even the interest, (‘as yet ,’ 1 said, ambigu
ously,) but to rely, as hitherto, upon my
resources ; and, in order to cuhance to tbe
utmost your estimate of our income, and
so increase your expenditure, I requested
you to settle all bills, large or small, and
took care that you should never need rea
dy money for that purpose.
But this could not continue forever : I
grew weary of endless frivolity; 1 was
sick of being courted, and flattered, and
prated of as the wealthiest planter iu the
South, and the dread of detection and dis
grace, which had dogged my steps through
out, began slowly to take the form of a
morbid wish that the drama would end at
last. It was this growing desire that pre
pared me for the reaction which was to
follow. I was recovering from the fever
contracted in riding from plantation to plan
tation, at midsummer, which had reduced
me to the veige of death : my usually as
sumed flow of spirits was quite gone; 1
was feeble, listless, aud outwardly quiet—
but my mind, never calm, was Worrying as
actively as ever at the old doubl,—“ Will it
be found out, and when ? To-day, in a
year, and how I”
By little and little, it occurred to me that
my thoughts were drifting from their usu
al channels—that fresh suggestions were
opening to view; for I felt, as is frequent
ly the case with invalids, a sense of isola
tion irom my reasoning powers, as if ray
mind pondered and designed, independent
of my more corporeal will. Then 1 weighed
these suggestions, as would an umpire in
any dispute; and their very novelty, added
to a latent good to be attained, which
might ultimately, I fancied, even cancel
my crime, gained the day. “Come, you
have tried the experiment fairly,” argued
the voice within; “ your ill-got riches
have brought you no pleasure, but bitter
ness and terror from hour to hour. It is
not too late; undo, to the best of your
ability, what you have already done, and
be prepared when the true heirs do appear—
as, be assured, at some day they will—to
restore all as it was when you committed
the indiscretion of transforming a cypher
into a figure of eight; and thus you may,
it is possible, escape further punishment,
at least in this world.”
But how—how can such results lie at- 1
tained in time? Not by economy: for,
allowing that to be an agent sufficiently
active, I cannot consent to live like a beg
gar again ; besides, to economise, it would
be necessary to confess all to my wife, and j
that
“Nay,’’ -interrupted the mentor in my
breast, “not so fast! 1 do not require
you to give up ordinary luxuries—only to
abstain from purchases made with the sole
intent of scattering the inojiey, which
might otherwise, at a future day, fall into
rightful hands. Listen : have you never
heard of fortunes acquired by single tick
ets iu the lottery—perhaps purchased with
the entire hoard of some miserable pauper?
If one has been known (and it is no new
tale) to bring to the holder vast gain, how
much greater will your chances of success
be, who can buy at once a dozen numbers
in as many different lotteries, and all of the
highest denominations!”
What a thought! I was blind—an
idiot, not to have extorted it from my slow
brain before! Yes, I cried, l will recover
all I have squandered so foolishly; I will
live as suits a man of wealth henceforth ;
but no more reckless extravagance; and
when, in the end, I am enabled to restore
the estate as I received it, to the condition
al legatee, (whomever he may prove,) I
will live and die an honest man, content
with the moderate fortune, over and above,
I will acquire by my luck: for Heaven
cannot refuse success, nay, even reward,
to such praiseworthy endeavors !
I had scarce patience to await the return
of strength, which would suffer me in per
son to carry my scheme into effect —this
: new and crafty self-deception. But, in
! one essential particular, my hopes were
; destined to be frustrated. There was no
i difficulty in buying*: 1 bought tickets from
every office within reach, tried every hack
neyed method of falling upon the lucky
number, hut all with the same result:
blank, blank, or a pittance scarcely cover
ing the investment, but which, neverthe
less, was sufficient to encourage me toper
severe. One evening, as I was leaving
one of these establishments of leniently re
garded gambling, with a freshly purchased
package in my hand, 1 encountered one of
my gay associates passing.
“ Soh, soh !” he exclaimed, half jeering
ly, and smiling; “this, then, is the estate
from which our wealthiest of planters de
rives his income ! Why, man, you must
be q wizzard—a real Cornelius Agrippa—-
toalways recognize the luckiest numbers.”
I was a little nettled at being discovered
in the act, aud answered somewhat shortly :
“If I possessed a fraction of the acute
ness of Agrippa, I would have ruined the
offices long ago, or never bought at all!”
“ What 1 ” he cried, surprised at my man
ner; “ you , of all men, in want of money !
Ah, perhaps some momentary embarrass
ment, a debt of honor to meet, which had
been forgotten ?”
“ No!” I returned, to escape liis
tioning, “ I have abundance of cash at
hand, hut you have heard how wealth
breeds the desire of more : perhaps, I am
tired of buying unmeaning trifles, and
would like to try if a fortune or two may
not be obtained in the market, as well as
other commodities!”
“ Ha! ha! I see into you, now. But,
my dear fellow, is it possible that you, a
man of sense and refinement, can have be
come such an old woman, (pardon the ex
pression,) as to place a particle of faith in
lotteries, and lucky numbers, and all that
rigmarole 1 What is that you hold in your
hand—a packet of tickets 1 l thought so.
Here, give them to this old blind Kamts
chatskan, or whatever he is, and his saga
cious dog; they’ll make his fortune; they
always do; and, in ten minutes, I’ll intro
duce you where a man, with your capital,
can command Fortune —mark you I —not
sue her. at any hour of the night.”
1 was in no very fastidious mood, and
easily upset any lurking scruples with the
Jesuitical maxim of doing evil that good
may result; and from that evening, a
month ago, until the present, I have been
a recognized frequenter of the principal
“ hells” in town. I played from the begin-’
ning desperately; that is, my stakes were
the largest laid upon the board, and, as is
customary, at first won, then lost, then
won again, and, finally, have lost uninter
ruptedly ever since. The inherited lands
I have been unable to touch, because they
are, as you know, entailed ; but all else
has been swept beyond recall, the negroes
mortgaged, some even already sold, and
the very house, in which we now are, only
saved last night by my detection of the
trick at cards, hy which it was fraudulent
ly won. This evening, as usual, I return
ed, but the affair of the preceding night had
produced an ill-impression among the
hawks, and the rumor had gone from
mouth to mouth, that all my remaining
property was entailed. In consequence of
this silly statement, 1 found no one who
would play but for ready money; and
money I had none, for, in my mad reckless
ness, I had gone with the one great stake
in hand—the house that sheltered the head
of my trusting wife! I was chafed and
angered, but one could not quarrel with a
man because he declined to game; and at
last I found an acquaintance, who had
been present at one of our balls, and readi
ly advanced about a tenth of their va'ue
on various modern paintings I recalled to
his recollection, as it was impossible they
could be entailed. This sum 1 divided in
to two portions; risked the first; —bravo 1
won! A golden heap was before me,’ to
which 1 added the second: ha!—curse on
the luck—lost 1 But stay ; fortune at Inst
smiles; Plutus is returning home; so it
runs ; next time I will win again!
Unfortunately, not a dollar remained to
me. I hurried from one of my friends to
another, in the crowded room, showing
them how little it was necessary to have
to regain my own entire. Yes, all saw it—
saw it clearly; but most unhappily, at
that precise moment, their purses were
quite empty; no one could regret it more
than themselves! I was delirious; 1 raved :
the fury of intoxication is childish, corn-*
pared with that induced by despair at a
gaming table : a sudden thought crossed
my heated brain ; no one regarded me, for
an eager concourse had gathered around
two disputants in a corner. In another
moment, I was in the deserted street, hat-’
less, and with a sword-cane, bared, in my
right hand. The sudden transition from
the splendor within doors blinded me at
first, but the sharp cold, instead of dimin
ishing, only increased my excitement;
and, scarce pausing an instant, I pursued
the sound of footsteps, which rang on the
frozen ground not many yards distant.
The figure halted at my call, and showed a
man apparently passed middle age, but
erect, sturdy, and not inclined to deliver his
purse without a struggle. With his walk
ing-cane he guarded his breast, threatened
