the sleeping child.
JJT EUOENX field.
baby ® 1 ® p *and°some 1
V? i f ace a suulo
M [a> a unkiHS P ed neatd pail°and abroad;
iJn^lefb^r^o^ea’d!
Eclnfn Wooes me in all my waking hours,
the quiet burying-ground.
1 «-hen I sleep I seem to be
. „
smiles aud sings sweet songs to m«.
H e
With my darling baby sleep.
tom
HYSON’S CRIME.
BY “THE MAJOR.”
CHAPTER 1Y.
THOU AST THE MAN.
There was an awkward pause for a
fye^nd Mr. Belmont appeared rest-
1 uneasy under the other’s steady
! (ro/p anti soon broke the silence,
i “ See here, my man—it was under¬
stood k before what I came I had, in here and, poor that I as was it
to pav for the exhi¬
bition is vou might have spared me with it. I
of vour boorishness
l an't undertake to get toAylesworth at
this time of night, over a strange road,
l an j i am compelled to remain here all
Juio-ht. [that will, But perhaps, there is one take thing some I can of do, the
[surliness advance. out of you. How much I will is pay it?” my
[Lill ! Byron in said nothing.
‘‘Como—your charge, I say! Let mo
get to bed, and forget the miseries of
Ithisday.”
My account against you, Mason Bel¬
mont,' is larger than than I make out easily iu a
kav.” few minutes; larger you can
Belmont started at the mention of hia
name, and the altered tone of Bryson.
“Fellow, what do mean? Where did
kou learn my name ?” said
“You offer to pay me,” the
other, not heeding the interruption.
“There are some debts that never can
fee paid. I was rich, honored, and
prosperous; I was your peer, the peer
[of any m'erchaut in the city where seized we
lived. The passion of gaming
me; I was ruined. A charge of forgery
to a large amount was brought against
me. I was perfectly innocent, that but I ap¬
pearances were strong was
guilty. The eloquencb of my counsel
on tlie trial and some remnant of sym¬
pathy in the jury saved me, after a
fashion; they failed to agree, and after
a long detention in jail I was dis¬
charged. I came out a branded man!
Everybody believed me guilty. I was
b Cain where I had been almost a
prince. Yet I had not lost heart. 1
look courage und resolved to conquer
the world again. My beautiful home,
my great block of stores, were heavily
mortgaged, but I knew that with time
given me 1 could clear off the incum¬
brances and save my property. Yon
bad bought up the mortgages, i sough!
kou—you table who had often dined at my
and begged facors of me—and
fissured you of the new life that 1 meant
[to pvhicii lead. to I asked property you for and time alj in
[that save my pay
was due. You met my appeal
h'itli a heartless demand of instant
payment. I begged for so little took as a
|“nr; you were obdurate. You
lime; advantage of the depression of the
you foreclosed, bought in the
property a blow. at half My its dear value, wife crushed sank under me
Ihe auction and died. I was a beggar,
Iron regarded as a criminal. 1 tied
pith Pie. my For child years from we have all who been had buried known in
bbscuritv, cursed with poverty and
pard Inont; toil. how It is your work, it?” Mason Bel-
do you like
[ Pis He form raised his voice, his eyes glowed.
was erect, his hands boat the
b:r v.-;th emphatic gestures. His guest
p 11 back to the wall in terror and as¬
tonishment. I
Nobble. bby—bless me!—hut this seems
Can you be Newland Wen-
I. id—and “? e1 - Look at me—think of my
pi Fork say how you liko tout
i Why, really, Wendell—Mr. Wen
fhoiigH* 3 ^ extlemely sudden. 1
bought you were dead; everybody
I so.
And so I am! Dead to my good
P am “» dead to the fortune that was
pine—to the wealth and renewed honor
pat would have been mine—had you
tf.oi '‘nelly | ^ denied me the chance. Oh,
i m c eat enough; I shouldn’t be more
Kuf . I
I 1 don werer buried.”
- t know precisely what to say to
L U 1 , • AVendeil. I don’t apologize to
t\vk° was a little too hard sa 7 that, ” perhaps,
t on you.
L tes, a little—just a little!” said
L Eri. - I' 01 ! as we shall still call him, his
f “t trcmblin g with rage and
L r \ Monstrous Vil ^ ust ste Shy PPed lock that vou
V-,n u out of hell
^ treated 7 1: i ve used a former friend as
°n me.”
bd unreasonable, my dear sir,”
Ll, C Le ? 0nt ’ “ Idid Wlth an what attempt the to lawal- speak
p/iily Ycerv^Vv 0 "’ 11 , J0 aJmit “ eoilt ‘ As T for “‘ the
dii- - ' 1U "
lieiT’ L; * .f ! he QOw Clty * that; know ib a11 Simon 7°ur old
Ch os-
i , ft wo - Vear3 ago, and on hi
Said that he had bem
beci,-’J f as ‘ at as b ? He was wrote satisfied it, and that tie
that mu
^ aiuipu the amount. He fried
tr mi y ou. JAicl you never heai
o
is changed; f I am changed myself. You
at these L nobod v w °uhh Look j
ronrrh ban< l -
should f_ * 8 ’ at tb ^ Se bent
Arc;' in i- “i -f coraraon laborer,
drudee th a
r>Y > V-^ W ° 0uS bar ty
surmortino- ’ e :
Mv lfL Y 1 and tbat i P 00r child, .
mst l. J ^ ne Y 0ru me There 1
is if ‘
a tuitnr VteU 3 aud me H
not ” can- j
cross
be^jfoke^ow*likefa man almost^heart-
wronged, long dead, and whom he had thought
Mason Belmont was in con-
sternation. He knew not what to sav:
to offer any reparation was gall to hig
mcHK^gave 1 him C o^p^rtunity r to 0 ^
reproadiesT Pr “ enl tl,ese bi “"
“VVftll ATV 1 •<.' i "can ^be i
now, and I don’t see just what
d 6 kniw. IZJ'vo •III r?!
t ime vou discov*
me when I say that this painful
ery has almost upset me. Let me go to
bed aud sleec on it. and I’ll talk with
you further in the morning. fViii yes
take this five dollars now for my keep-
ing?”
“No; put it away with the rest oi
your Mr. ill-gotten gains.”
Belmont returned the bill to his
pocket, and did not resent the hitter
taunt. Bryson had taken the candle
and started for the tjoor; the guest fol¬
lowed him with his sachel.
Five minutes later, Bryson returned
to the room. He threw some of the
wood on the fire, and sat down before
it. When the little clock on the sheli
itruck eleven he was still sitting there.
A tempest was raging in his brain.
CHAX'TEB V
THH DETIX’S BECXOMN*.
The presence of Mr. Belmont in thit
house, and the few words he had said,
had raised a torment in Tom Bryson’!
breast that effectually banished sleep.
He sat before tbe fire deeply wrapped
in thought; but his thoughts moved
about in a ceaseless circle, and noth¬
ing came of them. Mr. Belmont and
his former friends should help him—
and he never would accept of their
help. He would return to the city
with Jessica—and he was no longer fit
for the companionship of his old
friends. Hia child should be rescued
from this poverty and obscurity, and
placed in the station to which her
birth, her beauty, aud her mind en¬
titled her—and sooner than accom¬
plish it by alms of those of whom he
was once an equal, she should share
his fate, bitter as it was.
An hour passed with these thoughts,
and the clock struck twelve. The fire,
fed by light, dry branches, had en¬
tirely died out; the candle in the
further end of the room shed no light
here; and so it was that a gleam ol
light coming through the chink in the
wall near where he sat now attracted
his attention. He understood at once
what it meant, and with the knowledge
came suggestions from the tempter!
The room usually occupied by Bry¬
son for a sleeping apartment, and into
which lie had conducted the traveler,
was next adjoining this one. To reach
it the two had entered a hall, passed
back twenty feet, and entered the
chamber by the hall-door. The old
house had been substantially built, with
thick partitions; but the wall between
these rooms had shared the misuse of
the lvhole house, aud in places great
patches of plastering were gone. In
one spot, about four feet from the floor,
a small piece of lathing was gone; and
it was through a wide crack here that
the light came.
Bryson’s curiosity was instantly
aroused. Mr. Belmout had said he was
tired. His candle was still burning.
AVliat was he about?
He might look and find out. The
sitting-room was dark at this end; there
was no danger of detection.
The Newland Wendell of other days
would have scorned the act that Tom
Bryson now committed. Ho was, in¬
deed, a changed man. his to the
He stooped and pa - eye
erack.
Removing only his coat and boots
when his churlish lost had left him.
Mr. Belmont placed his sachel nndei
the pillow and threv himself upon the
bed.
But he could nod sleep. had
He was not sujwrstitious; he not
an atom of sentinent in his hard, dry
nature; but there was something iu the
rapid successiai and the strangeness
of the events of the last five hours that
deeply impressed him. The accident
to tlie coach the storm, the fall¬
ing in with Edgar Van Wyck, were
the Jinks iD the chain that had drawn
him to thi» out-of-the-way place, and
to a most disagreeable meeting. He
thought of the morrow-, and groaned.
No remorse troubled him; it was sim¬
ply the fear that if this man should
continue to reproach him for his ruin,
he coud not escape offering him
money he
“Hmg the fellow!” muttered.
“Wh T does he bother me? I only took
my cwn. I don’t owe him a cent.”
could satisfy his own coarse soul ,
by rich reasoning as this, but he could
no; shake off' the sub.ect.
‘It was hard on the poor devil,” he
r-flected; “but he’d ruined himself be-
jbre I took him in hand.”
Then came a thought that startled
him from the bed, as if with & shock.
“A pretty place this is for me to be
in all night, with what I’ve got along ;
with me! Can that crazy fellow bus- j
pect it? Hardly. I’ve been careful
not to drop a hint about it. \\ hat
might he not do if he did find it out.
off in th s lonely place? *» makes me
tremble to think of it! I can’t sleep
now, sure, till I’ve seen that it's all
rieht -”
A match from a pocket-case relit the
candle. He went to the door and shot
the rusty holt. Sitting upon the side
tbe b ®d» he took the sacliel and
opened it with a key from li.s pocket,
As the beginning of our narrative has
found Mason Belmont, he was only
midway upon his journey. Its object,
known only to a few confidential friends
^thTc^itJ ^o£o? r §mTew
uess had foreseen chances for enormous
*““ 8 by llberal inve8tmenfc that lo-
cald 7 ; bufc read 1 I “? D ? y ^ as re( \ u 1Blte ’
ltia uauk F a l jer a “ l,liat S£ue would , not
% h ° secretly carefully carried a
’onuJedi f Znfy five«>ouJnddoTa^
One after another he pulled out from
d b ; 113(1 ,l es of uote3 ; f
plncUecTon , each,'and
ures the'back of
one tbe bu udles ho unfastened and
punted. It was a goodly sight Bills
were of tbe dendDaa i iatl °? 01 &st J
dollars, hundred, five hundred, ,
one
and at leasfc tbree representing examination on«
thousand each. The was
satisfactory. The merchant returned
the treasure to .the sacliel, replaced it
beneath his pillow, put out the light,
and found sleep.
The scene that has just been de¬
scribed was silently, stealthily viewed
by Tom Bryson from his concealment.
Like one fascinated, he gazed at the
wealth spread out on the coverlet. For
years he had seen no such sight as this;
for years he had known nothing of
money but the pittance that his hard
toil produced.
The tempter whispered in his ear,
and his heart throbbed madly at the
thought. Here was wealth enough to
make him comfortable, .tomake Jessica
happy. Who
owned it ?
His own worst enemy; the hearless
being, tbe faithless friend who had no
compassion for him in his extremity;
who had joined the crowd in outlawing
him; nay, the very man whose hard
hand had deprived him of his all with¬
out grace or mercy.
A wild, fierce exultation rose in Bry¬
son’s breast. Had not his time come
now Q Had not fate brought bis enemy
right here, to make recompense for the
grievous wrongs he had done ?
But his life stood in the way.
The life of such a man! Should he
care for that?
The candle went out; there was dark¬
ness everywhere in the old house. For
half an hour Bryson never stirred as he
Leaned against the wall. The deep,
regular breathing of Mr. Belmont soon
told that he was asleep. And in si¬
lence and darkness the fiend whispered
in liryson's ear.
CHAPTER VL
IN THE DEAD OP NUOHT.
It was past one o’clock, when, with¬
out a light, aud with feet unshod, Bry¬
son groped his way down into the cel¬
lar. Feeling about in the pitchy dark-
uess of the place, he found a shelf.
Several articles upon it he handled
and rejected, but presently seized the
one for which he searched. It was a
thick, heavy iron bar, two feet long.
He placed it inside his waistcoat, and
followed the wall along to another part
of the cellar, beneath the floor of the
room where his guest was sleeping.
Mounting an old box, he cautiously
tried the floor. It did not yield. Sev¬
eral times he changed the position of
the box, and pushed the hoards with
his hands, before they yielded. At
last a trap-door was lifted a few inches.
He paused a moment, with both hands
above his head, to make sure that
there had been no alarm. Then with
a painful effort he raised himself by
his hands into the trap-hole, his hack
pushing up the door as he did so. The
muscular effort filled hia body with
pain; but he succeeded in drawing
himself up, until his knees rested on
the floor of the chamber. Then oc¬
curred a mishap that he had foreseen,
but could not pi-event. The heavy
door had been raised by his shoulders
to the perpendicular; in getting his
knees on the floor tiie trap was thrown
back, and fell over with a crash.
The sleeper started up, thoroughly
awake.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
There was no answer. The room was
as 6till again as it was dark.
“I say—who’s there ?”
Still no answer.
“Was I dreaming about a noise, I
wonder?” Mr. Belmont thought.
He jumped from the bed, and finding
his match-case, struck a light. The
flash revealed his face as he stooped to¬
ward the chair to light the candle.
A dim figure glided swiftly and sil¬
ently to him; there was a dull noise as
the merciless iron bar descended in a
terrifio blow upon his temple, and
Mason Belmout fell like a log, dead at
the foot of his assassin.
The lighted match still burned upon
the floor where it had fallen. Bryson
snatched it up and re-lit the candle.
The victim lay prone on his face, his
arms thrown abroad.
A moment’s hesitation: a shudder,
and then the murderer pulled the body
to the trap-hole, and hurled it into the
cellar. The victim’s coat, shoes, and
hat followed. Then the iron bar, then
the sachel—and the trap-door was re¬
closed.
[TO BE CONTINUED. 3
R Pauperism has declined in England
d j?™** vyaleg, and is declining in Ireland, i j
---
3
T~>y; a TjEHS X 3 XT
DRY GOODS, NOTIONS, GROCER¬
IES, HARDWARE, CORN, FLOXJR,
HAA r , OATS, BRAN AND PLAN¬
TATION SUPPLIES
WE HAVE A COMPLETE SUPPLY OF
Ladies’ Dress Goods, Hosery
and SYliilinery I
Agricultural Implements,fcc
We extend a cordial invitation to all, and the Ladies
especially, to call and examine our stock.
i TROUBLE TO SHOW EOOOS »
Our Prices will Compete with Macon & Atlanta.
MUSELLA, GA. IY
FINE MILLINERY.
My Stock of FALL MILLINEHY is now beautiful, and will soon be complete.
1 have a nice line of NOTIONS at the lowest prices. My Stock of
GLASSWARE, CLOCKS AND JEWELRY
Are remarkably cheap, and if you sec them, you will be compelled to buy.
DRESS-MAKING A SPECIALTY, *«♦»
And all pains taken, and every effort made to give satisfaction. For convenience o ft
some of my customers, I will have a full lot of MILLINERY, NOTIONS, &c., a
the depot by the 15th. I cordially invite all the ladies to call and see my Stock.
6 m MRS. M. B. PIERCE.
J, H. NOLAN & BRO.
Have On Hand the Largest and Most Select Stock of
FURNITUR E
EVER BROUGHT TO KNOXVILLE.
Comprising a Complete Line of Choice Goods:
Bed Room Sets, Parlor Sets. Chairs,
Rockers, &c.
You cau fluff gooffs in
POPLAR OAK AI5 WALNUT.
Springs, lounges, wardrobe 3 , dining room safes, cupboards, etc. We alsa
keep on hand a full line of handsome coffins, burial cases and undertakers goods.
Call and examine our stock before you purchase elsewhere.
£N r OXVIlM aKM{GIX.
ly
MILTON J. MOORE,
|
DEALER IN
DRY GOODS, GROCERIES, HARDWARE
Patent Medicines. Notions, Etc.
I am prepared to sell Corn, Oats, Meat, Bran and all kinds of Family and Plan-
tation Supplies. I have on hand the largest and completest stock of Dress Good*,
Clothing, Boots Shoes, Hats, China and Glassware ever seen in this market.
Farming Dtisils, Carls, Buggies, Wagons,
Etc. I make a specialty of the celebrated Bainesville buggies, which I sell at fac¬
tory prices. I defy competition either in quality or price.
CERES. - - GEORGIA.
“9
FINE JOB WORK
-DONE AT
THIS OFFICEI
