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VOLUME I.
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SELECTED FOR THE INHErEN«ENT PRESS.
Memories of the Heart.
she cy* must be dark that so long has been dim.
Ere again it may gaze ujxm thine,
But my heart has revealing of the* and iky home.
In many a token and sigh.
I need bill look up with a vow to the sky.
And a light like thy beauty is there,
Ami I hear a low murmur like thine in reply,
When I pour out my spirit in prayer.
And though like a mourner that alts by the tomb,
I am wraped in the mantle ot care;
Yet the grief of my bosom, (Oh! call it not gloom)
Is not the black grief of despair!
15v sorrow revealed as the stars are by night,
Far off a bright vision appears,
And hope, like the rainbow a creature of light.
Is born like the rainbow in tears.
I know thou art gone to the house of thy rest,
Then why should my soul be so sad ?
I know thou art gone where the weary are blest,
( And the mourner looks on and is glad)
Where love has put off in the land of its birth,
The slain it had gathered in this,
And hope the sweet singer that gladdened the earth,
Lies asleep in the bosom of bliss.
I know thou art gone where thy forehead is starred,
With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul,
Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be marred,
Nor thy heart be flung back from its goal,
I know thou hast drank of the Lethe that flows,
Through a land where they do not forget,
That sheds over memory only repose,
And takes from it onlj regret.
In thy far away dwelling wherever it be,
I believe thou hast visions of mine,
And the love that made all things as music to me,
I have not yet learned to resign.
In the hush of the night, on the waste of the sea,
Or alone with the breeze on the hill
I have ever a presence that whispers of thee,
And my spirit lies down and is still.
f tTalf.
_ |
FOR THE INDEPENDENT PRESS.
THE PHANTOM RABBIT.
i
. [CONCLUDED.]
CHAPTER 111.
After dinner found Col. Graham and
his two young friends again seated in
his library. The Colonel proceeded as
follows :
“One night in August, after I had
been in bed about an hour, a few min
utes past ten, I was awakened by the
haying of my old watch-dog, Caesar. —
] heard the clatter of horse’s hoofs up
on the rocks in the avenue which
leads up to my dwelling. The rider
was evidently in great haste, and it
was not long before he hallooed at the
gate. I ordered a servant to go and
see what was wanted. Pretty soon lie
returned, telling me that one ofDe Bu
run’s negroes was at the gate with a
message to the effect that his master
was expected soon to die, and had
sent for me to go and she him, with
all speed. 1 had been about the only
rnan of the neighborhood with whom
the owner of Kenilworth had anything
to do, since his scttleme in the coun
try. As the old gentleman was igno
rant, to a great extent, of the method
of farming, adopted by Georgia Plant
ers, he not un frequently called upon
me for aid and counsel. I was there
fore, sometimes, a guest, at Kenilworth,
and a kiud of intimacy, or, I should
rather say, interest, had sprung up
between the inmates of the old man
sion and myself. When, therefore, 1
received a summons to stand by the
death-bed of Deßurun, 1 could not re
jfist the call.
Arising hastily and putting on my
clothes, I ordered my horse and start
ed for Kenilworth.
“I received orders from my master
to bid you be in haste,” said De Bu
run’s servant, as I reached the gate.
“Very well,” replied I; and oil'we
started in a gallop.
As we started, fleecy clouds began
to veil the moon, which was shining in
all her splendor. Now again they
would pass off, and leave her rays to
do their message to earth, without
1 .locking up their way, or offering any
resistance to their fairy flight. Alter
nate light and shade wore the face of
fair Cynthia as we proceeded, eacli
contending with the other, until it was
apparent that the latter was about to
win the mastery. A heavy black cloud
began to marshal its forces in the
Southland with thunders for its music,
and the, lightning for the flash of its
arms, it covered the sky with its dense
columns. Gem after gem strick
en fronf the crown of the heavens, un-'
;3l Mcdilii |oivntal;—tofitcra fort, folita, nub (general Iffecllium.
til all was shrouded in utter darkness.
A vivid flash of lightning bursts
through the dense pall, and shows us
the heavy architecture of Kenilworth
mansion. The servant accompanied
me to the most retired part of the build
ing, and knocking at the door, old Pe
dro opened, and gave me admittance,
while the negro slave retired.,
A howl of despair hurst upon my
ear as I entered the room, as if I had
disturbed the lair of some demon, or
some one damned. 1 pou a bed of
death lay the owner of Kenilworth.—
He raised himself in the bed, and, fast
ening his eyes'upon me, which gleam
ed from his dark brow as the lightnings
from the cloud which then veiled the
heavens, his withered lips gave vent to
the sound which fell with so much hor
ror upon my ear. I was oppressed,
nay, even appalled. My cheek blanch
ed and my heart quailed before the un
earthly shriek.
“How dare you, fiend .of hell,” said
the old man, “to disturb me thus?”
“Master, good master,” said Pedro
“this is Col. Graham, for whom you
sent.”
The dving man looked puzzled and
bewildered, but, then, as if recovering
himself, he became more quiet, and,
extending me his hand, said :
“Col. Graham, my friend, I am glad
to see you. Take a seat here, by my
bed-side. Oh! the agonies of hell are
upon me ! Wo ! ico ! wo !—Back,
fiends! down, demons ! 1 defy .ye all!
Come with your scourges, clank your
chains, and thou, too, black dragon,
whose breath is the flames of hell—l
spit upon }mu as you breathe your
fiery sulphur in molten showers upon
my bed. But oh, save me from that
accursed, foul fiend of a rabbit that
gambols upon the foot of my bed
there !”
And the dying man, who had risen
upon his couch in an attitude of de
fiance before, now turned his face to
the wall, and buried his head in the
bed-elothes, shrinking and cowering
before the form of a rabbit which did
actually appear upon his bed, and
which I myself saw, though the appar
ition of fiends and demons was invis
ible, save to the eye of Be Buruti. Af
ter a minute or two the phantom rab
bit leaped off of the bed, and, in doing
so, became invisible.
“Is he gone, Pedro ?” said the old
man, without stirring.
“Gone, master,” was the laconic re
ply of Pedro.
“Then open the desk, there, Pedro,
and give me the MS.” continued De
Bunin.
The mulatto slave complied with his
master’s request.
“Has not Dr. Anderson arrived yet?”
asked De Bunin with some impa
tience. •
Before Pedro could answer, some
one knocked at the door, and the old
slave admitted Dr. Anderson.
“Doctor,” said De Burun, “I have
| not sent for you to facilitate my way
! to hell with your damnable pills and
i potions. I feel as if 1 were going to
die soon, and I wish you to tell me how
soon the event will take place. None
of your hypocritical cant, now, about
hoping I will get well. Feel my pulse
•examine me, well, and tell me how
many hours J have to live.”
Dr. Anderson was a man eminent in
medical science, and eminent in all
the feelings of the heart, and sentiments
of the head , which make a.man. lie
was a man , though possessed of many
eccentricities. Therefore the rough
salutation and speech of De Burun did
not have the effect upon him which it
would have had upon weak minds.—
He offered nothing in reply—his cheek
did not flush, nor did he think of
turning upon his heel and leaving the
room. Oiinhe contrary, lie advaneed
to Dc Bunin’s bed-side, and, making
his examination, he thus replied to
the query which had been propound
ed him:
“You cannot possibly live twenty
four hours. Probably in the next six,
you will be. a corpse. Indeed, from
the nature of your affliction, which is
disease of the heart, you arc liable to
die at this very instant while I am
speaking to you, dropping into the arms
of death as suddenly as if a thunderbolt
fell upon your bosom. And all the
physicians on earth can’t prolong your
life one second.”
* “Well 'spoken, and to the point,
said De Burun. Now, Doctor, : name
' lour fee—do yen hand it to.him from
EATONTON, GA., SATURDAY, JULY 22, 1854.
the desk, Pedro, and show him the
door, as I wish to be alone with you
and Col. Graham.”
“I charge nothing for my services,
sir, ’ replied Dr. Anderson, as lie start
ed towards the door.
“One.moment, yet, wait, Doctor,”
said Deßurun—and then, turning to
his slave ho continued ;—“Pedro, hand
me the cheek in the desk, there, on the
Bank of tlic State of Georgia, for one
thousand dollars, made payable to
myself or bearer.”
Pedro obeyed, handing him the
cheek.
“Dr. Anderson, take this cheek as
your fee. You must have it.”
“As you will,” said the Doctor, who
was truly an eccentric fellow.
As lie spoke, he drew from his pocket
a cigar, and, twisting up the check in
his fingers, as De Burun handed it to
him, lie applied one end to the candle,
and then proceeded to light his cigar.
Upon doing this, as he passed me, he
muttered out something about the
“damned old sinner,” which startled
me almost as much as De Bunin’s fiend
ish howls, and left the room. De Bu
run gazed upon him in mute astonish
ment, and seemed to think he had met
his match once ere he died.
After Dr. Anderson was gone, the
sick man handed me the MS. which
lie had made Pedro give him from the
drawer, and said:
“Col. Graham, you have been a
friend to me, and I have still one other
request to make of you. I wish you
to take this MS., read it to me now,
and when I am dead, aid Pedro here
to carry into execution the few simple
directions which it contains relative to
my burial. I will not yet ask you to
promise to do so until you have read
the paper. Go on now with that.—
It contains a .succinct history of my
life.”
I took the MS. and saw that it had
been lately written. It was in the
hand-writing of Dc Burun, with which
I was acquainted, from some business
transactions, and was remarkably bold
and clear to have been written by so
old a man. I have the MS. now
in my library, and will get it and read
you some extracts.”
Col. Graham arose, and, going to a
drawer, took out the MS. and pro
ceeded to read some passages from the
autobiography of John De Burun, to
Jack and Frank. It ran thus :
“l was born in England, in the year
177—0f an ancient and noble family.
The Dc Bunins were the ancestors of
the celebrated poet, Lord Byron, to
whom lam nearly allied. They fol
lowed William the Conqueror from
Normandy to England, when that
country bowed to the yoke of a for
eign prince. They afterwards became
fierce Barons under the name of Lords
of Ilorestan Castle, and amongst other
warlike achievements, took part in llie
crusade to the Holy Land. Ralph de
Bunin’s name ranks high in Dooms
day-book among the tenants of land in
Nottinghamshire long prior to the time
th t my ancestors became the Lords of
Ilorestan Castle. From some cause or
other most of the De Bunins changed
their name to Byron. Our branch of
the family refused to make the change,
and hence my name in which I glory,
is still Dc Burun.
The De Burun family w<3re always
noted for their pride of birth. The
poet Byron was prouder of his blood
than he was of having been the auth
or of Manfred and Childo Harold. —
Arid TANARUS, John de Burun, had this day
rather he the old and stricken man
that I am under the curse of Heaven,
with the mark of Cain that there is
upon my brow, than the plebian presi
dent of the these United States.
Another characteristic of our family
has ever been the unqontrolablc pas
sions of their hearts which, up to this
time when their blood is nearly extinct,
has driven them to crimes of the dark
est and deepest dye. I, myself, am a
murderer, live times told,
In England, when I was about
twenty-live years old, I had a mistress
in London, with whom I one day was,
when a vile plebian came up and claim**
cd her before my face;’ Blunged in
crime, as I already was, though yet in
nocent of blood, I could not brook this
insult. Had the being who aroused
my anger been my equal in birth, my
manner of revenge would have prob
ably been different from what it, was.
But for an accursed churl to seek to
board me in my den, —I < not
stand it. My brain re led with pas
sion, and springing up>n the worm
who had insulted me, I >1 tinged a dag
ger to the centre of Is. heart, and
stamped his head benc£ h my heel as
he lay dead before me.
To avoid the sentence f the law and
my own feelings of rc norse which
soon overtook me, I fifn to'Cuba.—
Necessity, as well as a Tlisposition to
drown the voice of mJ conscience,
drove me to business, at I money-ma
king. And, notwithstanding I gpeiic
ffiuou of my time in reveiy and dis
sipation, still wealth accumulated fast
upon my hands, especially; after I be
come possessed of Pedro, w 1 3, although
a slave, has for a long ti e been my
most intimate companion, I id through
my command, a sharer of ny crimes.
When I was a little abc > r e sixty, I
married, through the influ nee of her
father, who was himself inj uenced by
my blood and wealth, a beiutiful lady
who was then quite young! The fami
ly of Donna Francesca, r| r wife, was
of noble Spanish blood, her father
having, on account of I >me whim,
left Spain and settled in 0 iba. Fran
ccsca, at the time I mark :d her, was
7 it
loving a gay young cavsier by the
name of Don Alfonso. After I was
united with the object of hisWfections,
he crossed the Atlantic, anTjremained
upon the European eontinenWor about
two years. At the end of hat time
he returned to Cuba. In thjpiean time
Donna Francesca had give*. birth to a
daughter, whom we called Inez. Her
beauty, gayety and vivacity were not
at all impaired by this eve it, and thcr
first tiling I knew, she was mgaged in
an intrigue with the Dor/whom she
still loved to idolatry. • T.V<; result was
Francesca died by poison! and Alfon
so had to fly again across tile Atlantic
to escape my wrath.
For fifteen or sixteen years after this,
I continued to live upen the island, a
widower, as I now an, employing a
matron for Inez, who raised her from
the time she was twelje months old,
and attended to her education. This
woman died just befo'e we removed
to this place. At the end of the fif
teen or sixteen years, ] got into some
difficulty with the Spanish authorities
upon the island, and deemed it best to
remove with my daughter to this coun
try. Before doing so, however, I had
betrothed her as a bride to Don Alva
rez, a youth of wealth and liable blood,
and a relation of Donna Francesca.”
“Here,” said Col. Graham to the
young men, “follows an account of De
Bunin’s removal to .tHi.- country, and
an account of what occurred between
Harry Johnson and his ’ laughter, with
which you are acquaincd, up to the
time that the old man attempted to
take Harry’s life for kiss ng his daugh
ter’s hand, after rescuing her from her
perilous situation, when sic was thrown
from her horse. It seer s that De Bu
run, from the frequency with which
his daughter rode and p omenaded to
wards the house of Hari ds father, and
from other trivial circumstances, began
to suspect what was going on between
his daughter and her loter. lie had
therefore followed Inez at some dis
tance and unobserved by her, on tlic
morning on which she was thrown
from her horse, and the result of his
espionage is known.”
A Col. Graham, therefore, skipped that
portion of the MS. which gave an ac
count of matters which he had already
detailed, Elnd comnfmeed at the point
of history where h’e had left off:—to
wit, where Harry started to his father’s
house, and De Burun and his daughter to
Kenilworth, after ihe adventures which
followed tlic stinging of the horse by
the hornets. He continued to read as
follows:
“As I was returning with Inez to
my dwelling after this disgraceful af
fair, not a word passed between us. —■
After we got to the house,, however, I
took her to one of the innermost apart
ments of the dwelling, and reproached
her with the infamy which ; she had
brought upbn my house. I considered
this act of my daughter as sinking my
name to a deeper pitch of degradation
than .that which it reached when Don
na Francesca indulged in the., intrigue
with Don Alfonso ; for he was of pa
trician blood. And though my name
was dishonored, it was not disgraced by
being connected with that of one from
the rabble. Os this, however, of course,
I said nothing to Inez—for she' was ig
norant of the crime of her mother, and
Uiemur..ler committed by. her father—
of which last none but Pedro, was cog
nizant. She little dreamed even that
I had ever committed the murder
which I had in London. Os these
things I was determined she should re
main ignorant to her death..
But, as I was saying, I reproached
Inez with'the infamy which she. had
brought upon my house? I fold her
that if she was guilty of such conduct
again she should die by her father’s
hand. And I farther assurred her
that nothing but the blood of her ple
bian lover would appease my wrath. —
I know my wrath, and the storm
which agitated my bosom must have
been terrible; for poor Inez shrunk
before them as tlic dove shrinks be
fore the stoop of the falcon. Falling
at my feet, and clasping my knees, she
begged my forgiveness, while floods of
tears laved her cheek. I saw she
would have interceded for Johnson, but
that she dared not do so. This only
increased my anger, and feeling an ir
resistible propensity to plunge my
steel in the bosom of my child, I rush
ed from the presence of my own
daughter, to prevent my becoming her
murderer.
I tried for twenty-four hours to quell
my wrath, and endeavored, by all the
means in my power, to think of some
other subject than that which had
wrought me up to such a pitch of fury.
I even laid aside my intention to seek
an opportunity to kill Johnson. Still
if one had presented itself, I would
have shot my stiletto into liis heart
with all the frenzy of ahyena. Things
might have passed on in this way, and
all might have gone on tolerably well,
until I should have given my daughter
and my wealth to Don Alvarez, when
I would have been willing to die, had
not that hell-hound Johnson made
another attempt to win the hand of my
daughter, as he had already seduced
her heart.
The next day after Johnson had sav
ed the life of my child, as I was going
up the stairs which led to the room of
Inez, I saw, lying upon the steps, a
note, done up very neatly, and direct
ed to Inez Dc Burun. Stooping down
I picked it up, and on reading it, found
it was from Johnson, and that it reques
ted an interview with my child that
night, at a place on the banks of a riv
er which ran hard by Kenilworth.—
lie pleaded the love which was con
suming him, and urged also, as a. rea
son for gratifying his wishes, that he
had saved her life the day before, and
had spared that of her father when it
was in his power. The note stated
that Antonia, my daughter’s maid,
was the bearer, and requested an an
swer to be returned by the same mes
senger.
As soon as I had read the note, I
folded it up, and dropped it again just
as I found it, and passed on to another
room, up stairs. I knew that my
daughter had dropped her note on the
steps, and that when she found she had
lost it, she would make search for it
and find it again. Soon after I got in
to the room, up stairs, I heard the
nervous step of my daughter on the
stair-case, as if she was greatly agitated.
She passed quickly down the steps,
and when she got where the note was,
stopped for a moment, and picked it
up. She continued, then, down the
steps, as if to get something, and then
turned round, after a minute or two,
and ran again up stairs/ displaying
much pertubation in the very • sound
of her footsteps. She was not aware
that I had seen the note, and was pro
bably rejoicing that it had escaped my
attention.
As soon as I had read the note, my
course was immediately resolved upon.
I determined to have Antonia watch
ed, and if Inez did not agree, in the
answer she would probably send John
son, to meet him, I intended to cause
her to write him another, in which she
would consent to an interview with
him, so that I might avail myself of
the opportunity to take liis life. I or
dered Pedro to keep his eye upon An
tonia, and if he saw her leave my
house, and .go in the direction of John
son’s to seize her, and search her for
-a note which she would probably car
ry with her. Late in the evening, Pe
dro apprehended Antonia, as she start
ed on lier errand, and brought her
back tome, in such a direction as that
it was impossible for Inez to sec it, to.
gether with the note’which she bore
with her. Upon reading this not<3» I,
found that mV daughter Had agreed to
*
meet Johnson at the place appointed
by him.-
After I had found out what answer
was returned to Johnson, I ordered
Pedro to take Antonia to another slave,
make her enter his cabin, and, while
he stood without and listened, to com
mand her to say to this 4lave. that he
must take the note to Johnson, and let
him know that she, having no oppor
tunity to carry it herself, had sent it
by him. This she was to say to the
slave, and nothing more, under pain of
death. I was afraid to trust Antonia
to go to Johnson, lest she should tell
him that the note of Inez had been
intercepted, and thus frustrate my
plans. Pedro took Antonia to the
slave’s cabin and everything was done
as I ordered it. Antonia dared not
say one word more to the slave than
she was directed to say, as she knew
that Pedro was out of doors listening,
and would assuredly report anything
which she might utter, more than she
was ordered to say.
As soon as she had delivered her mes
sage, and came out of the door of the
cabin, Pedro hurried her away into my
presence, and reported that my orders
had been obeyed. A short time after
she left, the slave, to whom the note
was given, performed the task commit
ted to his charge.
My next object was to prevent An
tonia’s communicating with Inez. For
tune, or the devil, favored me in this
also. Antonia’s mother was quite
sick, at the quarter, and needed con
stant nursing, and, at night sitting up
with. So I told Inez I would send
her maid to perform this task. My
daughter very readily consented, and
under pretence that Antonia should
go and sit up with her mother, I or
dered Pedro to lock her up in one of
the rooms of Kenilworth mansion.
The place where Inez and J ohnson
had agreed to meet each other, was a
most romantic spot upon the bank of
the river, near my dwelling. There
were several large rocks overhanging
the waters of this stream, one rising
above the other, so that the lower rock
was concealed by the upper ones.—
Around these was a cluster ol dense
oak trees, with under-growth and vines
leaping from the shrubbery to the
branches of the oaks, so as to form a
bower, lit for fairies to dviell in.
About ten o’clock at night, after I
had lain down, not to sleep, hut to
watch, Inez softly left the house, and
proceeded to the place of meeting.—
I followed her, at a distance, and, when
she reached the bower, Johnson was
already there. While both were
standing upon the lower rock, Inez
commenced first. Said she to Johnson:
“Let mo tell you, at once, we can
never marry. We meet to-night to
part forever. But one thing could
have induced me to meet, you here, and
that is gratitude. You saved my life
on yesterday, and spared that of my
father. I come now to warn you that
unless you flee'from before my father’s
wrath, your life will pay the forfeit.
He is bent on killing you. As for my
passion and yours, I entreat you, that
by the love with which my bosom
yearns for you, and by that which
burns within your heart for me, you
urge it not. For my sake, and as you
prize your life, fly, oh, fly from my
father’s auger. I came but to tell you
this, and now upon the instant I must
return to my father’s dwelling.”
“Inez,” replied Johnson, “your ap
peal is not in vain. To-morrow. I go
to the bloody field of battle, there to
lay downniy life upon the altar of my
countiy. I only wished to gaze once
more upon your angelic features, and
bid you farewell forever. And now
go, and may the blessing of Heaven
ever attend you.”
As he said this, he pressed her hand
in his, and, gently raising it to his lips,
dared'again to kiss it. I was within
ten feet of them, and yet was concealed
from their view. I had nearly suffo
cated with rage. When residing upon
the island of Cuba, I had frequently
gone on hunting excursions to the
prairies of South America. Jn the
pursuit of wild cattle, there, I had be
come quite skillful in the use of the
lasso. I resolved, before leaving my
house, to make the lasso avail me
against Johnson. Taking one'along
with me to where Inez and Johnson
were to meet, I threw, it over the head
|of the latter, just as he kissed my
{terms, $2,00 A YEAR.
NUMBER 14.
daughter’s hand. Giving my rope a
jerk, and choking him to the earth, I
rushed forward with the ferocity of a
tiger, and plunged my stiletto into his
bosom. One thrust was enough to
take his life, but not enough to appease
my anger. Thrice more did my steel
find his vitals.
Inez shrieked, and when she saw her
lover was dead, knelt down in a fren
zy of grief, and kissed the pallid lips
of the corpse before her, essaying with
her hands to staunch the blood so
swiftly flowing from the gaping
wounds. As was her grief, and in
proportion to the love she showed for
Johnson, so was my anger, and, ere I
was aware, and without intending it,
my stiletto pierced the heart of my
child. I did not meditate the murder
of my daughter. It was done in a mo
ment of passion. Wo! wo !! wo!!!
Cutting up the rope with which my
lasso was made, I fastened stones to the
bodies of my victims, and hurled them
from the rock into the waters below.
As I was about to return home, I
saw a rabbit frisking in the moon-beams
near me, and thus one living object
had witnessed my deeds of blood.—
I felt a strange sensation of horror —
horror different from that which I felt
before —at the idea that even a dumb
brute was a witness against me. This
rabbit gamboled on before me until I
reached the house, and then entered
it with me. I tried to catch it, but
could not, It escaped me, until next
morning, and then I ordered Pedro to
take it and kill it. lie caught it and
carried it out, chopped its head off with
an axe, and gave it to one of the dogs,
which devoured it. As he returned to
fell me what he had done, I saw the
same rabbit following close behind
him. Cursing the old slave from my
heart, 1 asked him why he had not ex
ecuted my orders, lie averred that
he had, and, upon my pointing out
the object behind him, he seemed
thunder-struck, and made an effort
again to catch the rabbit. Whenever
he was on the point of placing his
hands upon him, he vanished as if in
thin air. From that time to this, the
phantom rabbit has haunted me, and
continually turned my memory to the
scene on the river bank.
Pretty soon a black dragon, breath
ing from his mouth and nostrils flames
of. sulphury fire, became my compan
ion, and he ever whispers in my ear,
“wo! wo!! wo !!! ” This phantom
is invisible save to my eye, while the
rabbit may be seen by all.
The next morning, after the tragedy
on the river bank, report went out
that Johnson had eloped with Inez.
There was yet one other act of re
venge which I had to consummate. Or
dering Antonia to be carried to the
centre of a dark and gloomy swamp,
upon the stream near Kenilworth, I ,
had a hickory sapling bent down by i
four athletic, and strong negro fellows,
and, tying a grape-vine around her
neck, hung her as I -would a dog.-
There was no danger of detection in
this as no one ever penetrates the dark
recess where the deed was done. As
to disclosure by the negroes, I told
them the same fate would be theirs if :
the thing should ever get out. This
as eflectually sealed their lips as death
itself could have (Jone. , .
* * * -x-
Jr» W '* ■ V ■ -
When I am dead, I want a marble
slab placed over my grave with the
name “John De Burun”. upon it| in
brsso relievo. In the same way must
be placed, just below this name, a black
dragon, breathing flames from|this
nostrils, with a scroll issuing from liis
mouth, bearing upon it the words “wo!
wo!! wo!!! ” This must be done. For
the direction of the sculptor, I give &
below a drawing of the dragon as I
wish him represented upon the mar- j
blg t ”
Among various other accomplish-!.,
ments possessed by De Burun, he had
a knowledge of the art of drawing, f
which enabled him to represent, ah
most to the life, the figure which Kel
wished execuikl upon the slab ofj
marble that was to be placed over hisj
grave. .. . ,
Alter I had finished the MS., which J
occupied about an hour in the rcadin&J
the gray-headed, murderer,, who had
lain quite quietly while J wasjjffcr
forming the task he had assignc®iie,
started * suddenly up, ayf from Jjfeye
ry and said