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THE BAPTIST BANNER. BY JAS. N. ELLS & CO. VOL. IV. She baptist fanner, DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE, I* published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the subscription price of three dollars per year. JAMES N. ELLS A CO., Proprietors. AT THE LAST?” "Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labor until I evening."—civ : 2;?. The stream is calmest when it nears the tide, The flowers are sweetest at eventide, And birds most musical at close of day, And stints divinest when they pass away. Morning is lovely, but a holier eharm Lies folded close in evening’s robes of balm; And weary man must ever love her best, For Morning calls to toil, but Night to rest. She comes from Heaven, and on her wings doth bear A holy fragrance, like the breath of prayer; Footsteps of angels follow in her trace, To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace. All tilings are hushed before her, as she throws O'er earth and sky her mantle of repose ; There is a calm, a beauty, and a power That morning knows not, in the evening hour. “ Until the evening” we must weep and toil. Plough life’s stern furrows, dig the weedy soil, bread with sad feet our rough and thorny way, And bear the heat and burden of the day. Oh! when our un is setting, may we glide, Like summer evening, down the golden tide; And leave behind ns, as we pass away, Sweet starry.twilight round our sleeping eJay. r [From Chambers’Journal.] OUR COUSIN ALICE. I HAD certainly not recovered front the] effects oi the severe wounds received in the battles fought between Cawnpore and Luckn <w, when I met again, after four years of separation, my cousin Alice. My brain must have been less steady than usual ; and it was perhaps a little turned by my being regarded as the hero ,of the little world, formed by the country families and early triends, who met to congratulate me on my return to England from the seat of war in the East. 1 ought to have had a mother to nurse me, but I had none. I was an orphan. , let it was to the house, which, in my fath er’s lifetime, had bel-n my home, that I came i back. * 'There whs the great down, wooded near ly to the summit, which I remembered so well, where the coursing meetings used to be held. I could scarcely believe, as 1 en- ! tered the drawing-room before dinner, that the same party which had so often assem bled for the great gatherings on Marley Down, were not drawn to the place now for the same purpose. But other customs pre vailed. My young cousin, Sir Reginald Moore, was no sportsman. The sleek grey hounds had ail disappeared; I missed them sorely. The old squire—rny grandfather —had been dead more than a twelvemonth. His youngest and favorite son —my own parent —had gone before him to the grave. Our present host, the representative of the family, was a fair, pensive-looking youth of five-and-twenty, fond of poetry, accomplish-! ed, handsome, but with scarcely nerve; enough to fire off a gun. Our lair cousin, Alice Verschoyle, had ' al ways been a subject for contention be-1 tween us. We had been jealous of her' smiles iu boyhood; as men, we were still more covetous of her favor. Through all the Crimean battles, and ’neath the burning Indian sun, in the perilous march with Havelock,and while I lay prostrated by ill ness after that fierce time of conflict was past, 1 had worn her picture next my heart. The case had turned away a ball that would j else have pierced it. There had been no avowed betrothal be- j tween us when we parted ; but her fair form was pressed unresistingly in my arms, and j she wept her long farewell on my shoulder, i It was true that she called herself my sister ! m the letters she wrote to me, but I never! acknowledged the relationship. Nothing; but poverty stood between us then ; and now, I had risen in my profession. If I found her still in the same humor, and will ing to share the vicissitudes of a soldier’s lot. 1 meant to make her my bride, As 1 looked at her across the table —tor we were not seated near each other—and saw a deep blush mount to her face beneath my anient! gazn, I ln lieved that she would not retuse! my petition, Perhaps she thought me. vain, for every I one was calling upon me to tell the tale i our Indiim battles, She did not look til me ; I her uy*» wtu’u quite averted ; but other w<» m«m worn weeping as I spoke of the noble paiieie *» of those huroie ladles, whose names will live In history for their gallnut endu ratwe of suffering at Ltrnktiow, I had seen those pale victims, soum widowed, some op plums, all most deeply tried by tie* prlva tions mi I anxieties ol those long mouths of walling, before th heavy boom of the guns told them that our brave English soldiery were advancing to their rescue, (!afl I ever forget that midnight ovaotia lion! Tim dread silence, the long lines of troops, the awful Intervals, where all our care could not prevent danger, through whit h those half hunting women and their brave but exhausted dcfeudeiM had to puss. A BSMftfOVS 40 Thank Heaven I all went well—that no ac cident, no untimely panic marred the plans of our gallant chief. Dur triumph would have been scant if one of that heroic band had perished on their way to freedom ! Reginald had written some, verses on the subject, which Alice had set to music. 1 ; had not seen a tear in her bright eyes pre [ viously, but they coursed each other down i her cheeks as she sang my young cousin’s words. 1 do not remember what they were, ! but I thought them scarcely worthy of the 1 subject, and certainly undeserving of the precious drops they called forth. A window was open near me, and 1 was out. upon the terrace before the song was ended. It was dark; and a couple of per sons, who w ere seated on one of the bench es set against the wall, were talking earn estly, and did not perceive me. I heard a lady’s voice say : “ When her mourning for her grandfather is laid aside, Missr Verschoyle will marry her cousin. Sir Reginald Las one of the finest estates in this county. It will be an excellent match for her, and has been long contemplated*!.}' the family.” • It was, nevertheless, the first time such a thought had entered my mind, and I was one of Alice’s nearest relatives—too near, some persons might consider, for us to think of marrying; but if it were so, the same objection applied to Reginald : we were all first cousins to each other. At that moment, there was a stir in the j drawing room : a lady had fainted. I saw' her borne out, and the fair head with its long sweeping curls of golden brown, vyhich had once rested so confidingly on my shoul-j der, was now supported by another arm. I .Ilw as Alice and Reginald. I did nob stay , to look at them ; one word from his lips reached me. I saw the look of intense ag ; ony on his fair face, so like her own, as he bent over the insensible girl. In one mo ment, 1 knew that he loved her. I could not wait to see her eyes open. 1 had stood fire many times, but I had not courage to face! the conviction that the first glance of revi ving consciousness might bring to me, that the passion I read in the dreaming boy’s! eyes and voice was returned. I believe I was half mad when 1 rushed! away. 1 had traveled night and day* to j meet her ; as 1 have said, 1 had not recov ered from the effects of the injury I had sustained during the street-fighting at Luck now; when, in addition to severe wounds, the beam of a falling house hud descended ion my head, completely stunning me; and but for the gallantry of my comrades, 1 should have been left for dead, at the mer cy of our savage foes—and now 1 had seen her in the arms of another. I had heard her lips repeat his musical words; nay, 1 had seen her very senses forsake her under the spell of emotions raised by what ap peared to me to be paltry commonplace lines. As 1 stood in the large hall where we had all three played as children, to which, as a man, I had so often pictured my return, the bitterest mortification took pos session of my soul. For the first time, I remembered how inferior was my social position to that of my cousin. 1, a mere i soldier of fortune, who must return to a ■ burning climate, and a country on which I henceforward women will look with dread ' and aversion; while all around me, bathed 1 in moonlight, from the high windows of that noble hall hung with trophies of the chase and the banners of our ancestors, I saw the wide domain which belonged to the young Baronet. Those were his deer trooping under the trees. The magnificent cedars grouped in the midst of the dewy lawn, the ! spreading elms and beeches, the majestic I oaks—all belonged to that beardless boy I What were a few years of manhood, a few daring deeds which had won for me the re ! wards which a soldier covets —the medals land crosses at which she had scarcely | glanced—compan d to his advantages. As 1 went up the stairs, each step awoke painful recolleel ions. We had come down them together on the morning when 1 left home to rejoin my regiment, then just or dered on active service. Here, at the land ing, we paused long, while she gave me her picture, and, after some hesitation, the chain of golden hair that still supported it. Had it been woven for me? Alice would not confess, but .she did not deny the fact. I always believed that it was so, As I stood looking down into the lighted hall, two persons came into it together.— Alice seemed well, ami scarcely to need the support (if Reginald’s arm, mi which she was leaning, I heard him say ; “Is it so, Alice ! Have you quite deci ded I Will you never repent, and wish to draw lan k from the words vmi have spoken tonight?" ’ He took her hand and looked in her lair lane with mouridul teiiduriinsH, I did not wflll to hear lier answer. I yould not con tim inyM-ll sulllujuiitly to move away tiui Hly, As I looked down upon them (Or the aat time, I saw that Alive had started from her companion and was ga/ltig upward ; I even fancied that she vailed me, hut I did not return or iiuswer her. Better for all of us would It have been, ff | had heeded that sweet warning=volee, I rushed to my room at mice, and for hours I walked up and down, M w<.|l Ing within me like the surging sea, Then ATLANTA, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, APRIL 18, 1863. HIS BANNER OVER US IS LOVE. for a short time my mood changed, my sus ; picionsseemed unfounded. I recalled Alice’s joy at seeing me again ; the soft broken words of delight she had uttered when I came upon her by surprise in the park; our long pleasant walk together, so full of old recollections and present confidences.— If no plighted vows had been exchanged, it was because we both had been exchanged, it was because we both had long known that we were pledged to each other. The words I had heard on the terrace now seem ed to me idle gossip, mere nonsense. The morning would bring her ajjain before, me, bright, beautiful and truthful as ever. For an instant the demon of jealousy stood re buked ; but again and again he returned, maddening my already fever-d brain and over-worked frame till every nerve quiver ed with excitement. The same images haunted me when, at last, 1 lay down, exhausted by fatigue; but, deeming it impossible to sleep, just as a dull gray haze spread over the landscape, ob scuring the moonlight which w.-.s soon to place to the dawn. The last thing that I remembered was the swaying of the fir-tops, as the old trees opposite to my open window rocked to the blast. \\ hen 1 woke, it, was broad daylight.— The sun was sinning in, tempered by silken hangings that waved in the fresh breeze.— A part of each of the shutters was closed, and the room, considering that the mommy was so brillianth line out of doors, was somehow shaded and darkened. I very faintly recollected the train of ideas which had so tortured me ere 1 lay diovti, hut an impatient feeling, such as might visit a stif | fever from long sickness or a prisoner, as ; sailed me. 1 tried to start up from my couch, but a strange feeling of weakness, like what I had experienced when I was first wounded, came over me, and I fell back again. As I moved, a woman-servant stepped J forward quickly, and in gentle measured tones spoke to me. I did not understand a word of what she said ; a mist came be fore my eyes, her voice rang indistinctly in ! my ears, a horrible, sickening dread came; over me—images of horror seemed to fill' | the room, and I fainted. When I revived,! my mind was clear; the spectral forms , which had flashed across my vision became ! distinct, and 1 recognized them as shapes in a dream. I felt that 1 was ill and weak, and 1, the once strong man, lay prostrate, incapable of moving. 1 thanked my God for the helplessness which, it might be, had saved me from such guilt as in the visions! of the night had been mine. I do not know whether at that moment any one was watching by me. The person lor persons in the room, if it were so, must . have been very quiet, for not a sound dis turbed me as 1 recalled the images which had been present with me in that fevered dream. The room I was iu was one that 1 knew well, and outside the window ran a narrow ledge of ornamental stone-work, which went along the entire front of that old house. It was barely wide enough to step upon, yet I fancied that I had walked the whole length of it in safety, till in my dream I came to my cousin Reginald’s room. He was now the master of the house, and slept Jn what had once been my grandfather’s apartment. When I was a boy, the kind old man had an illness, during which my mother nursed him; and the severest rep rimand 1 ever received from her was when of the servants told her that Master Hubert had got upon the stone ledge outside his window, and tried to walk round to one that opened into the chamber where she was sitting up with the invalid. My father said then that it was a thing impossible to be done, but in my drcam 1 fancied that 1 had achieved it. My cousin was a painter as well as a poet, and the room in which I imagined him lying was full of indications of his tastes, which were all gentle and refined. — A half-finished picture stood on an easel, at which he must have been gazing before he fell asleep. It was Alice reading a letter, with a bright flush of happiness and warm love in her face. A small but beautiful statue, modeled after some old classic ideal of loveliness, but with her features, stood on a table at his elbow, He was stretched on a couch, still dressed as I had seen l.im, calm, hut. with the melancholy expression which was habitual to him. His dedicate, aristocratic features and pale complexion, which looked yet whiter in the lamp light., were almost feminine in their regular beau ty, I do not know wlnit disturbed his slumbers, for all passed dreamlike in si lenee; but he woke, and, rising up, appi'in ed to come forward to close the window at which I was standing, The ledge mis so nai row, that It seeimal to me a toucli would throw me off my ludani'u, and precipiliili* me many fitllioms Io Ilm paved court liulow, Tim Instinct of self prt'si real ion, mingled with a strong nntiigonhtiu feeling, arose within me as my rival approached, I grasped the statiuhioii of tin* window, and sprang into tin* room, Hmm< kind of misty, Inilldlnut I'eeolluc lions iTiino next ol it confflut between uq in which piWMti.s were made, the Midi lull <• was thrown down, and tin* tianvas of the pielurc plorccil through with the sharp point ol the blade iiu'loMcd in a sword slick, which I had snatched up before leaving my room, and ; with which I had steadied my footsteps on i the giddy ledge. 1 felt the excitement of battle once more, the fierce rising of blood thirsty passion. Though no words were exchanged, we seemed to know that we were rivals, and that a dealh struggle was pass ing - between us. How it ended I knew not. At this point my sleep must have been interrupted, foi I remembered no more of my dream, which chilled me as I recalled it. 1 did not rnen-i tion it to any human being during my slow recovery, and few words were spoken in my presence. I had been dangerously ill tor many weeks, which had passed in the delirium caused by brain fever. My wounds had re-opened, and the greatest caution was necessary ; above all things, the mention of any agitating topic had been prohibited. 1 began to think that my jealous surmises were unfounded, when I woke up night after night and found Alice watching over me. — The attendant slumbered in her chair un chidden, while my true-love waited upon ma Sometimes her kind gentle mother would call her away, and say that she over taxed her strength, but Alice would come back again at the same hour the next night. "he horrid dream which had followed m\ access of jealous fury, returned again and ag? n. I rejoiced that Alice’s sweet face wa beside my pillow when I woke from it. NxThing evil could remain near her, and the bad spirit was rebuked; but he took pos-1 sos ion of my senses in her absence, bring-1 ing forever before me that accursed vision. I thought that the house seemed singu-! larly quiet, and that my nurses were all! grave, even sad, in their demeanor; but this was probably occasioned by the preca-! riousness of my situation. Alice, in her! white flowing robes, looked almost spectral; bu I trusted that, with reWlrning health, I sh< uld see her under happier auspices, and,! it’s le grieved for me, her pale dejected face d\i not appear less lovely than when she smiled upon me on my return. No rival came between us now. My sick chamber was visited only by the phy ! sieiaiis, and by those whose especial task it ! was to wait upon mo. Not a breath of wind, was pass ng without reached me. 1, felt surprised that my cousin Reginald, for: j whom I was once more beginning to enter-! tain affection, never came to see me; but. j pride restrained the inquiry which often ! rose to my lips. Once, when I casually mentioned his name, Alice looked troubled; a deep shade cross !V;d her fair brow, her bright eyes filled with tears. “ Do not. let us speak of any one but our-! selves,” she said softly. “This is my j world. It may be selfishness, but I can not interest myself in anything that goes for ward outside of these closed doors till you are well enough to leave this chamber of sickness, and share the pains and pleasures of this changeful world with me.. Think how bright everything looked when you re turned from abroad, and how little we thought what, a day, even an hour, might bring forth!” 1 could not quarrel with her answer, though I strove to chase away the tears that followed it, and lead her thoughts to brighter prospects. When I spoke of re turning with her to the east, she -looked at me sadly. .1 thought that she doubted whether I should ever recover sufficiently to resume the duties of my profession, though 1 assured her that 1 already felt much stronger and better. “It is not that,” she sajd hesitatingly ; “perhaps, Hubert, you will never need to go to India. Do not question me. I ought not to have said even this much ; but there have been changes among us since you have been ill. It is so hard t»w dissemble with you !” Iler mother’s entrance prevented the rev elation that was quivering on her lips; but my curiosity was roused. The next I rose, to try my strength, and walked to the win dow. Os late, the vision had not come so strongly, and 1 started at seeing the narrow stone ledge exactly as 1 had imagined it to be. I fancied myself still dreaming; and lin'd by this slight exertion, I crept back to my couch. It was mid-winter; the park was deep in snow; the stream that traversed the lower part, of the grounds was frozen, and long icicles hung from the eaves, before my strength was siitlicieiitly restored for me to Ifiave my room, Even tbim, my first ap pearaucf was a surprise to the family, I mid imt mentioned my inteiitioii; and the lights were shining warmly anti cheerily as I entered tin* drawing-room, where tin* large| Christ mas lire was Ida/ing, kindled,!with tin* } uh* log from tin* last year’s burnings bm my feelings Were chilled b t y seeing Alice gild her nmlhtU' sitting beside il dressed in deep mmiriilng. They Inul m*vur visited my mcl» cliiimher in black, or said a word of any chiisc for assuming it. Ali'ee started up wllh a cry of surprise, ami ran to incut me, "What is this?’’ I said, laying my hand !mi Imr slnevu, "Why me ymi in mmiriilng !" She threw herself into my arms and wept. My mint, who hiul risen hurriedly, umiiu towards us and drew nm nearer to the sofa. "Hit down, poor fellow! you are mq, | strong enough to support her. Ah! Hu bert, we have all ha I much cause for sor row. The shock will find you unprepared ; but since you are once more among us, it can not be kept from you. My nephew, Sir Reginald Moore, your cousin, is dead ! We. are in mourning for him.” I was deeply grieved ; and my aunt, see ing that for the monunt I could not speak, said, with a glance at Alice, whose counte nance was hidden on my arm : “ Do not ask me to tell you the particu lars at present. I doubt whether we could, any of us, bear to speak of them, or you to hear what has filled this house with grief. Never was there a kinder heart, a better master —so young, too—so beloved.” Alice’s sobs shook her slight frame. Iler mother paused abruptly. “ Vye must not speak of it,” she said decisively; “Mr. Verschoyle will tell you this sad tale to-morrow.” I was silent at her bidding, but my mind was full of surprise and sorrow. The wild dream in which 1 had seemed to myself to enter Reginald’s chamber, recurred to my thoughts. It appeared to have been a pre sentiment of the coming woe; and I re membered with deep regret the unkind thoughts towards my cousin which I hid entertained when I saw him—how little ei ther of us supposed that, it was tor the last time. It was quite impossible that we should, any of us, turn our thoughts-from this pain ful subject. I did not remain in the room long; and when my uncle, seeing how great ly fatigued and depressed I appeared to be, offered me his arm ; I accepted it, and went lat once back to the sick-chamber, which I had quitted with such different feelings. The old butler handed us a light as we passed through the hall, saying gravely : “1 am glad to see you able to get about, Sir ! Hubert.” I staggered as he spoke. The words seemed to pierce through and through me. Strange as it may seem, it had not, in the surprise of hearing of my cousin’s death, occurred to me that I was his heir. lie was so much younger than myself; I had always considered that he was certain to I marry, and would iu all probability survive ! me; never had my thoughts rested on the ■possibility of my inheriting his rights! My uncle saw how much I was distress ed. “Servants never miss an opportunity of addressing a person by his title,” he said bitterly. “ Even that old fellow, who knew poor Reginald in his cradle! But surely, my dear Hubert, you must know that you 'are now the head of our family.” “ 1 had not thought of it,” I said, moving jon with difficulty. “1 do not think that my brain has been quite steady for some time —everything seems to reel before my eyes. Come to my room ; I can not sleep till you have told me how my poor young cousin died.” I believe" that my uncle exercised great caution in what he imparted to me, but I scarcely remember what words he used.— He tried very hard to dissuade me from listening, but I insisted on hearing all that was known respecting an event which was wrapped in mystery. My cousin had been found dead, with marks of violence on his person, when his valet elite red his room one morning during my illness. He had suffer ed very much for some time from low spir its, arising from Alice’s having rejected the offer of his hand, which he ha<l repeatedly made to her. She was so dreadfully affect ed by the idea that despair on this account had led him to put an end to his existence, that the subject was most carefully avoided in her presence. At first, it had been imag ined that robbers had entered the house, which was known to contain much valuable plate, and jewelry. There were some, indi cations of this having been the case; but neither Sir Reginald’s purse nor his watch, which were on the table, had been taken, and the most strenuous search and sedulous inquiries had failed in eliciting the fact of any burglars having been in the neighbor hood. Nothing had been left undone or untried, and the conclusion at which the family had arrived was a most painful one. It was thought best, to let the matter drop. I listened as though I were in a <lream, but not. the slighl<‘st idea that 1 was in any way connected with this sad ami strange event occurred to me, My nm lestaiil with me for some time, but I scarcely spoke to him. When he was gone, I lay down, quite e.xh;nist<»d with fatigue, ami slept, Thu ngittition which I had nmL-rgone brought <ui a reliqw, ami I wascoidim’d to my ronin for wm Im. When I roeoyeretl jmv Simses—|m' during ilm wliole time my lujiiu whs uoiifusmj nml week —ulmurfiil im- Hgt's sin roiimlud nit'i Mv rebitivf’H luul hri n mhisud by ilm pliynmliins to lay imide tlmir iiioiiriiiiig, mill nil iiientloil of iimlmi (•hilly topiuß whs forltliblt'ii, I look my pliiuu itinoiig tlmiii Dime more, grudmilly n* siiiiiiiig my former iniliils, ami at length grow ing rtuetislmned to ilm eliimgu prodiiuud in ilium by my liulug li'uuluil ns the immlur of i Im house, My eiigiigemuiit to Alice was now uni versiilly known mid acknowledged, Hur parents auqiilusuuil In It, ami im objection was made to my wish (hid our rnarrlagc should be speedily sulunild/.ed, I ler Imalth wiui shaken, mid il was consldort’d Hint It TERMS — Three Dollars a-year. ■ would be better for both of us if the tie was cemented without unnecessary delay. There was no great preparation. AH passed qui , etly. We walked across the park to the little church in the village, which was gay ly hung with flowers that the early breeze had brought into existence. Alice’s coronal of white roses had been woven for her that morning, with the dew upon their petals. We were to leave home for a short time; and while my bride was bidding farewell to her mother,. I went to my room to fetch down a traveling cloak which had been my companion in many an arduous campaign. As I drew it ofl‘ the hook, something fell clattering down, I stooped and picked up the sword-slide, which had done me good service iu the dark streets of Constantino ple, among the drunken Bashi-Bazouks and thieving Greeks. The sight of the weapon recalled the dream which I had had when I was first taken ill—l had forgotten it late ly. Reginald’s dimly-lighted room, the poor, graceful youth reclining among works of art, with the pale gleam of the night-lamp shining ou his handsome face. I shuddered, and was about to put aside the sword-stick when some involuntary impulse made me try to unsheathe it. , The blade was rusted in the scabbard, and would not come forth. My hands trembled ; I was forced to lean against the wall—when at last, with a more vigorous effort, 1 succeeded, and saw a dull red stain upon the blue sheen of the polish ed steel. At that moment, my name was called.— I threw the weapon back into the closet from which 1 had taken it, and hurried down. The carriage was at the door; Al ice was shedding her parting tears on her mother’s shoulder. The postillions were restraining with difficulty their impatient horses. Every one was crowding round us with congratulations and good wishes. 1 paused one moment on the threshold. Should I reveal thedark thoughts passing through my mind? After all, what were they ? Mere vague surmises, based upon the airy fabric of a drcam, while before me was life—real, pal pablehappiness. 1 drew A lice away from her parents, impatiently, but with tenderness, lifted her into the carriage ; and the next mo ment the ancestral oaks and beeches, the peaked roofs of the old hall, were fast Aiding from our view. A month passed quickly with us. I think, I believe, that Alice was happy. For myself, I can not tell; 1 seemed to live in a dream, less real than the accursed vision which day and night was present to rny eyes. If I slept, 1 started up, imagining myself walking along that giddy ledge, steadying myself by the aid of a weapon down which blood was slowly dropping.— My wife imagined that the nervous starts and tremors, which often shook my frame, were the remains of my long illness. All that was soothing and gentle lay in her voice and manner, yet their very sweetness tor tured me when the thought was roused that I had done a deed for which my life might be the forfeit. Must I lose her? Never was this sensation stronger than when we drove up the long avenue leading to our home. There were her parents, whom I-regarded as my own now ; the old servants, who had known us from infancy. Must I stand before them as a culprit—a murderer ? Would any one believe that I had done this most vile deed in my sleep —unconsciously—l, who had profited so largely by my cousin’s death ? and yet, could the tortures of the prisoner in his condemned cell be greater than 1 must en dure if 1 lived among them, bearing the weight of such a burden on my heart?— Could 1 hide it from Alice? —from those who sat at the same table with me, and were so near me in blood ? As I crossed the threshold, even while Alice was blushingly receiving her parents’ kisses ami congratulations, my resolve was made, and before night-fall put in practice. Nothing could cx’ceed the surprise of my relatives when, after hurriedly opening the letters that awaited rny return, I said in one one of them that my immediate presence in Loudon was required. There was but just time to catch the train at the next station. I took nothing with me but a change of clothes, and the sword-stick, which had lain unnoticed in the dark corner to which I had consigned it; ami, declining Alice’s offer to accompany me, I left her with her parents, and was soon traveling through the soft darknoss of the summer night, alone —per- haps, it might be, exeroising fi»r the last time the privileges of freedom, I did not follow the route I had marked out, hut, after tliu first mile, I directed the c’tiauliiiiim to turn Ins horses’ heads, and drive me to the house of the nearest eouu try magistrate, lie was an old friend of our fitmilv, iiiul nothing could exceed his distress when I mitdu known my ai'randi= In vitin lu* argued with nm that the inqires aioli on wliieli I whs nuling hud been loi'in ed iiinlur the iiilliieimt* of delirium, I slmw= ed him tin* weapon with the stain of blood upon tliu blade, and surrendering my per situ Into Ills luinda, duslring that flu' fiillMt ami most oomplulu Itivcsllgiiilon might take place. I now heard for the first time tliu exact particulars of the state iti which Hlr Itugl tinld Moore was found when his servantom ' [UoNCLUIiKD ON FOUnTlt f’AOMd NO. 22.