CONTENTS OF VOLUME II, NUMBER 12 (continued 2)

He was conscious of his danger in meeting the false-hearted villain, and blessed the thick veil of darkness which concealed his little bark from view. His only thought was to reach home before the star of Eldred’s fate had set forever; and kind nature almost seemed to stay her rapid wheels, to give the devoted Indian the only boon he sought, time to arrest the murderer’s knife. Having reached the landing, he bounded like the shot arrow, to the chamber where the wretched father paced the floor in the phrensy of despair. Arrowfoot rushed into his presence, exclaiming, “Where is Fitzgerald?” “Not returned,” replied the deep voice of agony, “the search is fruitless—Julian delays to confirm the fatal tidings.” “Hasten, Carlisle, if ever you hope to see your son again—he lives, but the hour for his death is appointed—the assassin waits but the sentence from the mouth of your nephew Fitzgerald to despatch him. Stand not motionless. Doubt not the certainty of what I tell you. I have pursued the ruffians and heard all the plot. In two hours, Eldred’s fate may be sealed: for the ruffians wait but the return of their leader, Julian Fitzgerald. Arm yourselves and follow me,” he cried to the gathering retainers of the household, as, seizing the first weapon that came to his hand, he darted towards the river where he had fastened the little skiff.

While Arrowfoot is leading the way towards the lonely habitation where he had left the imprisoned boy, we will follow the covert footsteps of Julian. After he had prevailed on Colonel Carlisle to retire from the search, he dispersed the band under his guidance, in every direction, but the right one, and under pretence of making inquiries at a small fishing station, sailed down the river alone, intending to take this opportunity to meet the instruments of his dark purposes.

The brow of McMurdough lowered with angry impatience, as leaning against an overshadowing tree, he waited the appearance of Fitzgerald. The assassin knew too well his rapacity for wealth to believe that any trivial cause could detain him, and yet the “slow paced night” had nearly finished her circuit without his coming. At length the glimmer of twilight gave place to the broad day, and still he came not. In a state of fearful doubt and uncertainty McMurdough strode backwards and forwards, resolving the part he should take.

The return of light roused the sleeping senses of Eldred. The unfinished dream still floated in his fancy, and gave color to his words. “Oh! Arrowfoot you have saved me from falling headlong down the precipice. I should have perished but for you.” “Who?” muttered the hoarse voice of Hawkins. Shuddering, at the sound the boy looked up, and beheld the savage visage of the robber bending over him. His recollection suddenly returned, and clinging to the cloak of the robber who was endeavoring to withdraw, he plead for mercy in the most moving terms. “What have I done,” he exclaimed “how have I wronged you, or any one else? Tell me, and I will restore you fourfold. Only spare my life, that is all I ask, and you shall be rewarded. I am my father’s darling, he will give all he has for my life. Think, were you a father, had you but one son, the hope of your age, the pillow of your widowed heart, and he were torn——” “Boy, boy, your words pierce me like a sword! And yet it is not the voice of a child that can shake the mind from its purpose. It is the voice of the Almighty, crying blood for blood! What! can nothing pay the forfeit of blood, but blood again? Whose blood must pay this boy’s? The deep answer speaks in my soul, my own child’s blood is the price. I dare not, no I will not shed a drop of yours. Let others answer for their own deeds,” he said, slowly retiring. As soon as he was alone, Eldred lifted up his heart to God, and prayed that he who hears the young ravens when they cry, would deliver him out of the hands of his enemies. Feeling tranquillized by casting himself upon the Almighty arm, he calmly surveyed the waving woodlands, and rushing streams, where had been the pastime and joy of his childhood. His eye caught the upwards flight of the “cloud cleaving eagle” soaring with unchained wing in boundless air, and he thought of the days when his heart bounded on wing as free and joyous, and the tears gushed from their full fountains as his head sunk on the broken aperture of the wall on which he was leaning. Absorbed in deep sorrow he heeded not the angry colloquy of the Kidnappers below, debating the point of his instant death or release, Hawkins refusing to take any further part in his destruction, and McMurdough in brutal ferocity at Fitzgerald’s delay, threatening his immediate assassination. A confused noise of voices approaching, broke in upon their dialogue, putting every other idea to flight, but that of immediate escape; and they fled towards a deep ravine, hoping to secrete themselves in it, until the pursuit was over; but it was too late. The wary Indian had placed a guard at every pass, and they were soon made prisoners. What was their astonishment to see Fitzgerald in the train of their pursuers? The unusual darkness of the night, prevented his finding the secret path to the place of rendezvous, and seeing himself totally at fault, he was obliged to await the glimmer of day light, in order to proceed more securely. Arrowfoot’s ear caught the sound of his stealthy tread, and warning his followers to advance cautiously, he darted forward, and intercepted Fitzgerald, at the spot where his followers had left the boat. It instantly flashed across his mind that his base design was known to the Indian; and resolving that his secret should perish with him, he drew his sabre and attempted to close with his adversary. But the movement was perceived in time for Arrowfoot to place himself on his guard; and although Julian was quick of eye and firm of foot, he gained no vantage ground. He was confident of success, for few had ever resisted that arm who encountered it in deadly strife: but Arrowfoot, with agile spring, always eluded the sweep of his weapon, and repaid his efforts by honest downright blows with a battle axe which he had seized from the boat of the Pirates. In the first moment of conflict, a shrill cry had given signal to the band of pursuers, but before they reached the spot, Julian Fitzgerald lay prostrate and disarmed at the feet of their leader. The skill and self possession which until now had always ensured him victory, failed in his struggle with the Indian. Conscience, defied so long, at last asserted its power, and unnerved his arm. He uttered no word of wrath or of fear; but his clenched teeth, and the wild glare of his eye, spoke the roused ferocity of the demon within. Arrowfoot, leaving the prisoners in the care of the rest of his party, flew to the captive boy. Eldred was aroused from his slumber by his hurried steps. Thinking his murderers had returned to do the work of death, he dropped from his resting place on the wall, and terror depriving him of every other sensation, he heeded not the rush of many feet, or the cries of his distracted father calling his name. The deeply moving voice of Arrowfoot at length awoke him to the consciousness of life and hope. A faint sob was the only expression he was able to give to these overpowering emotions. In speechless ecstasy he gazed on the haggard face of his father; who, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, gave thanks to the Almighty for his merciful interposition.

The Indian soon became aware of the danger of such a reaction in the feelings of the boy, and bore him from Colonel Carlisle’s presence into the near forest, where placing him on the bank of a murmuring rivulet, he bathed his temples, and, aided by the soothing sights and sounds of nature, soon restored him to tranquillity, and enabled him to return with his father and friends to the home where his sister watched with straining eyes, for some messenger who would tell her of his safety or his death.

Meantime the officers of the law took charge of the criminals. The general delight at receiving the lost one again shut out for a time all recollection of the traitor from the hearts of this affectionate family. But the indignation of the community was strongly excited, and numbers surrounded the prison, calling loudly for the instant trial of the prisoners. On examination, Fitzgerald protested that he was innocent of the crime laid to his charge. McMurdough maintained an obstinate silence. But Hawkins confessed the whole plot, and further added, that Fitzgerald had joined the Buccaneers in the West Indies in the preceding year—had distinguished himself in their piratical depredations by his daring courage; and was now commander of a small cruiser on the Chesapeake. Fitzgerald, he said, had not specified to him the person to be put out of the way, but only that one life stood between him and a large fortune, which all should share, provided his hand was not seen in the business. This evidence was sustained by that of Arrowfoot. When asked why he suspected the pretended affection of Fitzgerald for the boy, he replied in the sententious manner of his race, that he “saw him cast an evil eye on him, when he first met him.” When questioned as to his knowledge of the scheme laid to entrap Eldred, he said that he saw “something dark working in Fitzgerald’s mind, and followed him to the fishing town. There unperceived he saw him meet two men drest as fishers, and all three walked off together. After a while, the fishermen returned, but Fitzgerald was gone, where, he knew not; he only suspected some evil was intended against the boy, for his fortune.” When it was inquired why he did not reveal his suspicions? he replied, that he “scorned the part of a meddler or tale bearer, and he had no positive evidence of what he believed.” The testimony was now summed up, and the jury retired to consider the verdict. Colonel Carlisle sent in a petition, recommending his guilty nephew to the mercy of the court, but the intercession was rejected, and sentence of death pronounced on Fitzgerald and McMurdough. Hawkins, who was considered less guilty and who was penitent, was doomed to ten years imprisonment. The night preceding the day fixed for their execution, the prison was discovered to be on fire; and before any aid could be procured, the devouring flames had enveloped the building, and rendered all access to the prisoners’ rooms impossible. The next morning diligent search was made for their skeletons, but as they were never found, it was universally believed that the arch-villain Fitzgerald had found means to fire the prison, and taken advantage of the general confusion to fly with his associates from the penalty of the law.

Another cloud was soon to rest on Colonel Carlisle’s family. The period destined for the departure of their Indian friends was at hand. Arrowfoot spoke not of his purpose, until his plans were matured, but his countenance betrayed the struggle within. There was something almost solemn in the secrecy and silence with which these young Indians made preparation for their pilgrimage. Lest they should yield to the sympathies of nature, in receiving the expressions of the love and gratitude of the companions of their childhood, they kept almost aloof from them; and it was only by stealth that Eva and Eldred conveyed to their secret depository, stores for their long journey, and mementos of attachment.

Colonel Carlisle, while he lamented deeply the obligation which must separate the Indian orphans from their only earthly friends, could not violate his pledge to their father by attempting to detain them. He restored to Arrowfoot the wampum belt of the Spread Eagle, remarking, that it contained something which he must not examine till he had crossed the great western river. The Indian made the promise, deeming it some mysterious token left him by his father; and Colonel Carlisle hoped the large sum of gold he had prevailed on him by this stratagem to accept, would be of use to him in after life.

The evening preceding his departure, Arrowfoot’s heart seemed lighter than usual. He led Eva to one of the favorite haunts of their childhood. “Eva,” he said, “you have seen my dark and sad countenance; you have thought me ungrateful and unhappy. Yes, the soul of Arrowfoot is debased; it has rebelled against the command of my dying father, and preferred degradation and pity to the high hopes of my brethren in the West. Eva, you know it not, but it was the spell of Eva’s voice, the charm of Eva’s eye, that darkened my soul; but now, that dream is gone, my soul rises from its sleep, and brushes away the dew that dimmed its sight.” The tears of Eva flowed fast, to think that she had ever caused grief in such a noble heart. She turned to speak some word of comfort to him, but he had left her side, and plunged into the forest to regain calmness.

That night, when sleep had prest down the eyelids of Eva, and she lay in sweet unconsciousness of all, save the gay visions of happier years which floated through her brain, the beloved Caraola hung over her earliest friend, kissing her cheek and wetting it with her tears. The lovely sleeper heard not the deep sigh of suppressed sorrow, or the light foot which was passing forever from the home, where love and protection had been extended to the children of the savage. The morning light revealed the truth. A fan of eagles’ feathers was lying on Eva’s pillow, and a bow and arrow were placed near Eldred’s couch—the sole traces of their Indian friends. A melancholy void was left in the little group who had been wont to gather with cheerful faces round the hearth; and many a sigh and heartfelt prayer were breathed for the wanderers who came not again. Thus passed away, like the shadows of evening, the last scions of the Conistoga Indians.

UNIVERSAL SYMPATHY. A WINTER’S NIGHT THOUGHT.

BY EDWIN SAUNDERS.

London, January 1836.

CRIME AND CONSEQUENCE.

.

There resided, many years ago, in a small town in one of the West India islands, an individual known by the name of Waring, whose singular habits attracted much attention, and procured for him no small degree of notoriety. He was apparently between sixty and seventy years of age, tall and thin, but well formed; and the few locks of hair that time had spared, were as white as snow, and strangely contrasted with the bushy jet-black brows beneath which the large eyes yet shone with the lustre of youth, and told of passions which had once been stormy, if they were even now at rest. The upper part of his face indicated intellect and daring, but there was a degree of feebleness about the lips; and the smile, which sometimes curled them, spoke of any thing but joy. He lived in almost total seclusion, avoiding all intercourse which was not absolutely necessary, and entirely confining himself to his own humble residence. In the front part of his house he kept a small retail shop, and there he was to be found from early dawn to dark; and for many years he had pursued this avocation, without ever attempting to increase his business, or holding communion with the people about him, save in the way of trade. Those of whom he purchased his goods were in the habit of calling on him to offer their wares, for he was a good customer, higgling, it is true, about the price, and standing out for the last farthing, but always paying in ready money, and ever exhibiting the most scrupulous honesty. In his small way his trade was extensive, for curiosity induced many from the neighboring country to call upon him; and in the town, the lower classes and the negroes preferred dealing with one who they were sure would not take advantage of their ignorance to defraud them—a degree of integrity remarkably rare among the petty shopkeepers of ——. Of his early history nothing was known. He had come to the island in a small schooner, from some port in North America, and, soon after his arrival, took on lease the house in which he established himself, and which he afterwards purchased. In the rear of his dwelling was a tolerably large lot, which he had enclosed with a high paling, so as effectually to prevent his neighbors from watching his movements, and here he had resided for years, entirely alone. The delicious fruits and vegetables of that sunny clime and fruitful soil, which constituted his only food, were brought to his door for sale; and his habits of untiring industry enabled him easily to dispense with the attendance of a domestic. As he was not known to make any deposit or investment of the money he received, a notion generally obtained, that he was in the habit of burying it somewhere in the lot of ground which he had fenced in so carefully. Following up this idea, a plot had been laid by some desperadoes, to discover, if possible, the place of concealment, and possess themselves of the treasure. Three of them, one night, scaled the fence, and concealing themselves behind some empty hogsheads, awaited the coming forth of their intended victim, who, they conjectured, would visit his hidden treasure. Their motions, however, did not escape the vigilance of Mr. Waring. He came forth, it is true, and they rushed upon him, but two of them received the contents of a blunderbuss, by which they were instantly killed, and before the third recovered from his surprise, he was cut down by the blow of a sabre.

The noise of course occasioned an alarm, and a crowd collected to inquire into the cause. All information was refused, however, until the civil authorities should be present. They were sent for, and, upon their arrival, Mr. Waring unbarred his door, and led the way into the yard.

“I have been saving the courts and the hangman trouble,” said the gray-haired old man, as he pointed, with a grim smile, to the bodies that lay drenched in gore; “take the carrion away.”

From that time this singular being remained unmolested, by either the intrusions of curiosity, or the assaults of villainy. The house that I occupied was within a few doors of his, and the business in which I was engaged led to some transactions between us. It so happened, that in examining my books, I detected an overcharge which had been made against him by the inadvertence of one of my clerks. I of course hastened to inform him of the error, and to correct it. It was with some little difficulty that I persuaded him of the fact, but when it was made clear to him, he fixed his large eyes upon me with a peculiar expression, and taking my hand, pressed it with warmth.

“I do not thank you,” said he, “merely for the trouble you have taken, or for the information you have given, which has enabled me to save, though a small sum of money, yet an important one to me. These, however, merit, and they have my gratitude; but I thank you, more particularly, for exhibiting a trait of honesty that my experience had scarcely led me to expect among the merchants of this place. You are from Virginia, I believe?”

I replied in the affirmative, and inquired if I might not greet him as a countryman.

“I never speak of the place of my birth,” was the gloomy answer.

I have had too many, and too important affairs of my own, to care to busy myself much about those of other people; but, I must confess, I entertained a strong desire to learn something of this old man, and of the events which probably superinduced his eccentricities. My curiosity was destined to be gratified, though not immediately.

Years rolled on, my affairs had prospered, and I was preparing to return to my home, there to enjoy the fruits of my toil: the soil where he was born, is the only home to a true Virginian. One morning, to my great surprise, I received, by a negro boy, a note from Mr. Waring, saying that he desired an interview with me, which must be strictly private, and requesting me, if it suited my convenience, to call upon him at dusk. No trifling cause would have prevented my obedience to this summons. Accordingly, at the time appointed, I repaired to Mr. Waring’s shop. He was busy, waiting on some customers, and I was about to retire; but he detained me, saying, “I will attend to you in a moment, Mr. S——.” As soon as they had left him, he pointed to the back room—“Step in there, quickly, quickly!” he exclaimed, “and wait quietly my coming.” I instantly obeyed. About a quarter of an hour elapsed before he joined me, and in the meantime I took a survey of the apartment. I have seldom seen a more wretched abode. An old leathern couch, a ricketty table, two chairs, (one I strongly suspected for the nonce,) and an old wooden clothes chest, comprised the main portion of the furniture. The walls were bare, save where the spiders had hung their tapestry; bundles of rags and nondescript remnants of various useless things, were stuffed into every corner, and the whole wore the appearance of squalid poverty or pinching avarice. “Strange infatuation!” thought I, “that men should devote their prime of years, their powers of mind, to the acquisition of that which is to raise them above poverty, and yet when they have obtained the means to make life comfortable, voluntarily condemn themselves to the very privations which they had originally fled from as a curse! The measures we adopt to escape the evil, bind us by the chains of habit, to the condition itself which we deprecated.”

As I made this reflection, he who suggested it entered. After a brief interval, during which he gazed upon me as if to search my very soul, he said, “Mr. S. you are curious to know who and what I am. Nay, never blush, man, it is natural enough. You cannot think it otherwise than strange, that one who is connected by no ties of consanguinity with his fellow men, who has no apparent motive for hoarding his gains, for whom ambition has no charms, and who is looked upon by no earthly being with the eye of affection, should condemn himself to the want of every comfort, for the acquisition of that, which in a brief space of time, must be snatched from him by the cold hand of death. You, no doubt, think it strange too, that one, whose language gives evidence of education, and I may say of capacity, which would place him at least on an equality with his fellow men, should confine himself to the petty and despised occupation, in which for years I have been engaged. You probably deem me a miser; in one sense of the word I am one, for God’s sun shines not on a greater wretch; but there breathes no human being, for whom wealth has fewer charms or smaller power. The coarsest raiment, the simplest food, and a bare shelter from the storm, are the limits of my bodily wants, and as for my mind riches cannot purchase it peace. Still, my aim has been to gather them; for what purpose you shall be informed. I have requested this interview, because I had reason to think you an honest man, and none but such would answer my purpose. I desire your agency and assistance in the performance of an act of justice, the execution of which has been the main object of my life. For your mere trouble you will be amply compensated; for the satisfaction you will afford me it is out of my power to offer an equivalent. Having thus stated my wishes, I shall proceed, irksome and degrading to me as is the task, to recount to you the narrative of my early life. I claim from you simply the promise that you will not, during my life time, reveal what I am now about to utter to you.” I gave my promise. “Listen then,” said the old man.

“I, as well as yourself, was born in Virginia; my real name is W——. My father was descended from the English aristocracy, and was not a little proud of the circumstance. During the Revolutionary War, although his feelings were certainly on the side of the British government, he maintained a neutrality sufficiently strict to enable him to preserve his estate, which was a very large one. At an early age I was sent to England, where I received my education, and remained until I was twenty-three. Soon after my return to America my father died, (my mother had expired many years before) and I was left in the uncontrolled possession of one of the largest fortunes in Virginia. Young, well-born, good-looking and rich, every noble quality was of course attributed to me, and every where my society was courted. I lived in an atmosphere of sunny smiles, amid the rich the gay and the beautiful. Among the latter there was one pre-eminent. It was no dream of love that robed her with surpassing beauty—it was no perversion of fancy that invested her with the perfection of womanhood. If ever there were a heart untainted by a single impurity, it beat within the bosom of Emily C——, and that heart, with its boundless love, its thousand charities, its noble confidence, its unbending honor—that heart, I, I, the miserable, worthless, degraded object that you see, won by my seeming virtue, and broke by my glaring villainy!”

He paused, and wiped the drops of agony from his brow; at length he resumed.

“I did not mean to anticipate my tale, but I was forced onward by the tide of memory. Such a creature as I have described could not but be surrounded by admiration, and among the many who aspired to her hand, was one, whose perseverance was untiring, notwithstanding the frequent rejections which he had encountered. His name was Roberts. He was a young man of good family and fair education, with prepossessing appearance and manners, and was a general favorite with his acquaintance. His father, it was understood, had ruined himself on the turf, but the son, although launched on the busy scenes of life extremely poor, had contrived to accumulate a comfortable sum of money; how, none exactly knew; some said by speculations in lands, others by the purchase of bonds, while some hinted that he was indebted to his science in horse-racing and his skill in cards, for the greatest portion of his success. For my own part I made no inquiries about the matter. I met him in good society, his deportment was gentlemanlike, and moreover, he was a delightful companion. He sung a good song, told a good story, and had no small share of original wit. I do not know whether he loved Emily, or whether his motives were mercenary (for she was wealthy) but as I before observed, though repeatedly discarded, he nevertheless continued his attentions. I, alas! was more favorably received, and in the course of time Emily became my wife.

“Though memory ever reverts to that blissful period of my existence, conjuring up the past amid the pauses of occupation by day, and peopling the dark hours of the night, when remorse has banished sleep, with the shadowy forms of the loved—the lost—there are times when I lose the consciousness of its reality. I remember, but as a dream, amid the storm-blackened waves on which I am tossed, the bright skies that once cheered, and the blessed sun that beamed upon my course. My fortune enabled me to indulge in an extensive hospitality, and the pleasures of my abode offered every inducement to society. Among the most frequent of my guests was Roberts, the former assiduous suitor of my wife. He seemed to have entirely overcome his disappointment, and indeed no one congratulated me upon my marriage with more seeming cordiality than he. Emily did not like him, for she doubted the soundness of his principles; but she tolerated him, because she saw that he was entertaining to me, and probably thought my mind and morals beyond the reach of his influence. Fatal error! and, common as fatal! There is in the mind a principle somewhat resembling the phenomenon of heat in matter, which is imparted from one substance to another, as they come in contact, until uniform temperature is established,—so, when the vicious and the virtuous are in the habit of association, the bad qualities of the former are imbibed, not producing a moral medium, it is true, but creating propensities equally criminal. I grew in a short time, in consequence of this intimacy with Roberts, very fond of the turf, and that which was at first mere delight in the exhibition of the beauty and speed of the noble animals in their fierce struggle for victory, changed into a desire of being personally interested in the event. I betted freely, and though constantly flattered by my associates, and more especially by Roberts, upon the correctness of my judgment, I very rarely won. My losses, however, were not larger than my ample income could well afford. By and bye I became an owner of horses, and as I determined to procure the best, and did so, I was obliged to pay large sums for them. From ignorance, mismanagement, and probably knavery, but few purses fell to my lot. On one occasion, there was what is termed a sweepstake, in which I had entered a colt of great promise. From previous trials I was very sure that there were but few who could match him, and the event justified my confidence. Besides the stake, which was very considerable, my private wagers amounted to some thousands. I invited the members of the club to dine with me at the tavern kept by the proprietor of the course. Shortly after we sat down, a storm which had been gathering all day, broke forth with great violence, and continued without abatement until long after night-fall. As it soon became apparent that the tavern must be our quarters for the night, a general disposition was evinced to pass the time as pleasantly as possible, and even to exceed the bounds of sober merriment. The wine flowed freely; the song, the jest, and the merry tale gave their zest to the entertainment, and when we rose from the table we were most of us in a situation to be led into any amusement that might be suggested, how far soever beyond the bounds of prudence. Cards were introduced, and various parties formed at various games. I knew that I possessed no skill, and flushed as I was with wine, I still retained sufficient sense not to engage in a contest with those whom I felt assured must, without extraordinary fortune on my side, transfer my money to their pockets. As I sat looking on at some of the players, I was accosted by Roberts.

“‘What!’ said he, ‘are you an idler as well as myself?’

“‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘but that is not extraordinary, for you know very well that I am not able to cope with these gentlemen. But how happens it that you, who are an experienced hand, should refuse to try the chances?’

“‘Why,’ said Roberts, ‘I make it a rule never to play at any game that depends on science, unless my head is perfectly cool. Now, I have swallowed rather too much of the good wine, to be able to rely upon my judgment. I should not object to try my luck at any thing that depended on the toss of a die or the turn of a card, because if fortune smiled upon me I should play the bolder for what I have drunk, and win the more, and if I lost, why the affair would be the sooner ended, and I should get to sleep the earlier.’

“‘Well,’ said I, ‘can you find no such game?’

“‘I don’t know,’ replied he, ‘some of the party are talking of faro; if they open a bank I will bet against it. Would you like to do so?’

“‘No,’ I replied, ‘I shall content myself with being a spectator.’

“‘Pooh!’ said Roberts, ‘you’ve plucked the knowing ones to-day, and got your pockets full of cash; you can afford to part with some of it, even if you lose; but what should prevent you from doubling what you have?’

“‘But, Roberts,’ said I, ‘I do not even know how the game is played.’

“‘It is as simple as two and two make four—here,’ continued he, taking up a pack of cards, ‘I will show you,’ and he went on to explain the game.

“‘Is this all the mystery?’ inquired I, when he had got through; ‘I have heard it said that the odds were in favor of the banker, but I can’t see how.’

“‘Oh, so they are, generally,’ said Roberts, ‘but merely because it is the disposition of most men, when they have a run of luck, to stake with prudence, and when they are losing to exercise a corresponding degree of rashness.’

“‘And what should make me an exception?’

“‘The fact that I warn you of the error, and more than that,’ said Roberts, ‘you have the power, I have observed it frequently, of exciting yourself to boldness when it is required, and of bringing your passions under curb when it is necessary they should be still. He who possesses this self-command, although he may meet with occasional reverses, will ultimately prove successful. But I do not wish to persuade you against your inclination, and as I see that they are preparing to commence the game, I will leave you; or suppose you sit by and see how the fickle dame is disposed to treat me.’

“‘I do not object to that,’ said I, carelessly, and I accompanied him to another part of the room.

“‘Who are the bankers?’ said Roberts, as we approached the group who were busy with the preparations.

“‘Who?’ cried one, ‘why, only think, Wallis here takes it all upon himself, and he is bragging that he will soon empty all our pockets.’

“‘Indeed! I have seen a bolder bird than he cut down. But we’ll play low, Wallis?’

“‘Oh, of course. Ten checks are my limit, and we’ll put them at ten dollars each.’

“‘And you call that low?’ said I.

“‘Why, not so very low, to be sure,’ said Roberts, ‘but not quite so high neither as two thousand upon a three year old, eh! friend?’

“I was silent; the game proceeded for an hour. I looked on, and there was but little change in the situation of the parties.

“‘Now,’ said Roberts, as the banker commenced a deal, ‘I think I have you.’

“He placed the limited sum of a hundred dollars in such a situation, as to be effected by three cards. He won—doubled—won again—again—and pressed on, until he was winner about four thousand dollars. This was the work of a few minutes. I was astonished; the dealer looked aghast.

“‘A glass round to my luck,’ cried Roberts. We drank that, and another, and another, as Roberts continued to win. My whole attention was taken up with his play; I did not observe that the other betters were generally losing. Presently, what with the wine I had drunk, and the excitement necessarily induced by the spectacle before me, I began to feel desirous to adventure, myself. I did adventure, at first, with success, while, on the contrary, Roberts’s luck began to desert him.

“‘Hang it!’ said he, ‘it seems as if every one who comes in contact with you to-day, were destined to suffer. You hammer us on the course, and you are now mauling Wallis, at cards; but confound it, man, I wish you would let somebody win besides yourself.’

“It is unnecessary to protract this scene; suffice it to say, the fate of all other tyros was mine of course, that after acquiring moderate gains, I began to lose, that as I lost my money, I lost my prudence, that although, to outward seeming, I was calm as a stoic, (for my pride was strong enough to effect that falsity,) within me there raged a boiling hell of passion, and as stake after stake was swept from me, I verily do believe I could have stabbed the winner to the heart. When the game ceased, I had been stripped of all my ready money, and was largely in debt. It was near morning. I threw myself into a chair and fell into what was rather stupor than sleep.

“With the early dawn, I shook off my lethargy, and with a head fevered, and a heart aching from the dissipation of the night, I set out on my return home, which was but a few miles distant. Although my absence, on the previous night, had been unpremeditated and unavoidable, my conscience, as it whispered over the list of my late transgressions, numbered this as one of them. I knew I should be greeted with affectionate smiles, and felt how unworthy I was to receive them, and that was a bitter pang. Is it not a marvel that men should ever be tempted to the commission of a second moral offence, when the punishment for the first is so severe? But the head-ache of the drunkard and the repentance of the gambler are alike forgotten, when temptation again assails them.

“As I rode along, a prey to remorse, I made many excellent resolutions. I determined to sell off my racing stock, content myself with viewing the sport, and never again to bet upon it. Cards I would never touch; my time should be occupied in the cultivation of my estates, and for relaxation, I would depend on literature and the conversation of my domestic circle. Finally, I resolved to communicate to my wife all that had occurred, and give her the promises I was making to myself. By the time I reached home, I had contrived, by these means, to restore, in a great measure, my self-complacency, and I almost flattered myself that I had gained a moral victory before I had even encountered the foe.

“Emily met me at the door, with a thousand welcomes. ‘How kind it is in you,’ she said, ‘to come so early! I knew when the storm came on, that I could not see you last night, and I hardly hoped you would have been so early a riser.’ ‘But dearest,’ continued she, ‘you must have passed an uncomfortable night, your eyes are heavy, and inflamed. Are you not well?’

“‘Oh yes, very well,’ I replied, ‘but there was a great crowd at the tavern, and I could not sleep; a good breakfast, however, will soon restore me.’

“‘Were you successful yesterday, Charles?’

“‘Quite so,’ said I; ‘my colt surpassed my expectations; I shall not take a trifle for him.’

“‘Why, do you mean to sell him?’

“‘Him, and all the others. I am determined to quit the turf, Emily.’

“‘Indeed!’ exclaimed she, ‘how I rejoice to hear you say so, my dear Charles, and particularly as you are not induced to the resolution by loss. I feared that if you were a winner, you would have been more wedded to the sport. I have never interfered with this passion of yours, Charles, but it has always been a source of regret to me, to see you waste your intellect on pursuits, to say the least, so frivolous, and which lead you into society that I cannot but think unworthy of,—perhaps, disreputable to you.’

“I eagerly, rather angrily I fear, defended myself from the latter charge, and asserted, that my associates were, in general, men of station in society and respectability equal to my own, and that if there were a few whose characters were less estimable, they were merely the necessary instruments of our pleasures, and not held in the light of companions.

“‘I care but little for station, if it be not worthily held,’ replied Emily. ‘Whilst I would pay to those whom adventitious circumstances place above the mass of mankind, the formal respect which society demands, I should hold education and virtue to be the fit companions of a husband whose cultivation of mind I admired, and whose natural goodness of heart I dearly loved. Now, Charles, let me ask you, are not your associates, generally, persons of dissipated habits; nay, vicious ones? for I cannot look upon gambling as less than a vice. Do you derive from them any moral benefit? are you sure that they contribute even to your amusement? I do not, for a moment, believe that you have learned to look upon play as an amusement.—Oh! God forbid it should ever come to that! I had a friend once who was married to a gambler, and Charles, I have seen the deep anguish that pressed upon her heart, and graved its lines upon her pallid brow, though her tongue never uttered a complaint. When the wretch who had trampled upon her affections had basely reduced himself to absolute want, he, as basely, deserted the family who relied on him for support, by destroying himself, and they were left, in their utter feebleness and misery, to the cold charity of the world. Poor Mary! God had mercy on thee, and gathered thee to himself,’ sighed Emily, as a tear stole down her cheek. ‘Ah, Charles, you see I have good reason to hate gaming.’

“‘You cannot detest it more than I do, Emily,’ replied I; ‘never fear that I shall be caught in its snares.’

“‘But Charles, men acquire habits by degrees, and learn to love that which they once loathed; and what pleasure is to be derived from associating with those whose time is spent in play, if you do not join in their occupation. They cannot converse with you; that would take off their attention from the game; and they cannot listen to you, their interest is absorbed in their desire to distress those whom they call their friends, by winning their money. But, my husband, I did not mean to read you a lecture,’ continued she smiling. ‘Ah, well do I know, for your wife’s sake, for our cherub child’s sake, you never will abandon yourself to the infamy of a gambler’s life.’ And she threw herself into my arms. I pressed that form of loveliness to my bosom, and felt the beating of its confiding heart, and, coward that I was, I betrayed its confidence by withholding the communication I had decided to make. I felt humbled by her purity, and rebuked by her love, and I dared not tell her what I had done.

“The day wore on, not without sad reflection on my part, but I felt self-assured that I would never so err again, and as this confidence became strong, I persuaded myself that it was unnecessary to distress my wife by any disclosures. I had only to pay off the debt I had incurred, and there was an end of the affair. That evening, much to my surprise, and very contrary to my wishes, Roberts called upon me. I had no desire to see one who had been an eye-witness of my last night’s madness, and I felt a dread lest he might allude to it in Emily’s presence. There was no occasion, however, for any such apprehension. He talked of various things, and in a most amusing manner, but never referred to the races, except to observe, in a slight and careless way, that I had missed no sport by having been absent that morning. It was not until my wife retired that he touched upon the subject.

“‘Why, in the name of common sense,’ he asked, ‘did you leave us this morning so abruptly, W—— or rather, why did you not return?’

“‘Simply,’ replied I, ‘because I was guided by common sense. I had lost enough, and too much, and in a way that my feelings disapproved of, and there was no pleasure to be derived from lingering about the scene of my folly.’

“‘I lost too,’ said Roberts, ‘but I never sit down contented with a loss. He were but a poor merchant, who would fold his arms, and abandon all enterprise, because, forsooth, he found one adventure unsuccessful.’

“‘It is the business of the merchant,’ said I, ‘to take such chances; it is not mine to gamble, and yet I should think that merchant foolish, who should take a hazard where he clearly saw that the chances were against him.’

“‘And how do you know,’ asked Roberts, ‘that the chances are against you?’

“‘Because every one lost last night but the banker,’ I replied.

“‘And he had to refund this morning all that he had won,’ said Roberts, ‘and put a good round sum to the opposite side of the account.’

“‘Indeed!’ said I, ‘did you play?’

“‘To be sure I did,’ was the reply, ‘and have got all my money back again, with a tolerably comfortable stake besides. I regretted much that you were not there. Our error, last night, is obvious enough; the wine made us imprudent, or we both could have risen from the table winners.’

“‘Perhaps it is better that we, at least that I, did not. I might have been tempted to continue a course that I feel confident would lead to disastrous consequences.’

“‘Well,’ said Roberts, ‘I dare say you are right; and right or wrong, it is certainly not my wish to urge you to play. I merely thought you might be desirous to recover what you had parted with, and would therefore venture a trifle more to effect such a result; but let that be. You will be on the field to-morrow, of course?’

“‘No,’ replied I, firmly.

“‘No!’ exclaimed Roberts, with great surprise. ‘Why, what becomes of your horse, Velox? There is nothing in the stables to match him, and a heavy purse to be won.’

“‘I have determined to sell out my racing stock.’ Roberts stared at me.

“‘Indeed,’ he exclaimed at length. ‘What next? I am prepared now for any marvel. Possibly you are going to turn Methodist; when may we expect you to hold forth?’ ‘Pardon me,’ he cried, as he saw that I was beginning to be displeased with his freedom, ‘but I cannot but wonder that a man of your strength of mind and liberality of disposition, should permit himself to be so worked upon by a trifling loss of money, for trifling it is, compared with your means. What will your friends say, when they hear that the wealthy Mr. W—— is going to withdraw himself from their society and the fashionable amusements of the day, because, in a luckless hour, he touched a card, and lost some money, which he well could spare?’

“‘Mr. Roberts,’ I hastily replied, ‘I have not said what my motives were, nor have you a right to impute petty ones to me. It may be, sir, that you conceive good or ill luck to be the only principle which can govern a man in such a case: I trust I can be, and am influenced by a higher feeling; a sense of right and wrong.’

“‘Nay, nay,’ said he, ‘be not angry with me. I question not the correctness of your course, I only suggest what will be the probable remarks of others. It is known that you were unsuccessful at faro last night; you immediately proceed to dispose of your running horses, and that too with every prospect before you of a fortunate campaign. Rumor will increase forty fold the amount you have sunk, and it will be at once supposed you were compelled to sell. For, be assured, that however pure and correct your conduct may be, mankind will never believe in the existence of a motive which would exalt, if they can, by any possibility, pitch upon one that would have a contrary tendency. However, I am done. I trust you will not ascribe what I have said to any thing but friendly feelings towards you.’

“Can you believe, Mr. S. that I was fool enough to be worked upon by this flimsy argument? Yes, sir, I was that fool! I did not abandon my resolution, it is true, but I postponed its execution, and it amounted to the same thing in the end. I will not tire you by detailing the various contrivances which were resorted to to induce me to play. I could not if I would, recount the various schemes of villainy by which I was stripped of my personal property, and compelled to mortgage my real estate. Usury, as well as gaming was now hurrying me on to destruction. I was fully aware of my situation. The dark clouds that hung over me were plain to my eye, the roar of the breakers was distinct to my ear, but in sullen desperation I held on my course, until the bark, freighted with reputation, fortune, earthly happiness, and future hopes, was dashed upon the flinty rocks, and the shattered fragments strewed upon the waves. Long, long before this, Emily had been conscious of the course I was pursuing; my frequent and prolonged absences from home, my moodiness when there, my altered looks, my nights unblessed by sleep, or filled with horror-burthened dreams, that spoke in deep groans of despair, told the tale in accents not to be misunderstood. Oh! what efforts did she make to reclaim me—with what kindness did she try to soothe me—with what eloquence did she plead and urge me to abandon the vice that was pregnant with destruction to us all! And how often did I promise—how often did I swear to reform, until perjury on perjury robbed her of all respect for, and confidence in me, though they could not totally extinguish the flame of undying love that burned on the pure altar of her heart. Her health gave way at last; the bloom of beauty faded from her cheek, and her form of graceful roundness was attenuated to a shadow. My little boy, too, as if he sympathised with his drooping mother, wasted away, and looked the very type of misery. What a heart had I, to inflict all this! I have sometimes thought that a demon must have possessed me, and was permitted, for some wise purpose, to work his will. I know it was a foolish thought, a miserable attempt to shuffle off, from my wounded conscience, the awful responsibility of my own uninfluenced crime. But is it not strange? I was tempted by no gratification of passion, by no smiles of success; there were no changes of fortune to retard my downward progress, and yet, unvarying loss could not teach me to despair, and the burning consciousness of the wretchedness I was heaping upon all who were most dear to me, could not prevail upon me to refrain. But let me proceed.

“My ruin was at length complete; every thing was swept away. I had neither food for my family, nor a roof to shelter them. Before this, Emily had been repeatedly urged by her relations to accept of an asylum with them, but she had refused to abandon me. She was as wretched as one could be who was free from all crime, and bowing, with unmurmuring meekness, to the hand that chastised her. She had nothing but her own unequalled goodness to sustain her. I had forgotten even to be kind, and yet she would not abandon me. But the time had now come when it was necessary that she should look to her friends for the bare necessaries of life; and the state of her health too required comforts and assistance not to be procured by poverty. For the present, therefore, she consented to remove, with our boy, to her father’s house. I did not accompany her, for I was fully aware that my society would be tolerated there only for her sake; and sunk as I was in my self-esteem, and justly degraded in the eyes of others, my pride could not brook any manifestation of the feelings entertained towards me. From the physician who attended her, I had daily reports of my wife’s health, which became more and more precarious. How could it be otherwise? Had I not destroyed her peace of mind?—had I not violated the sanctuary of her love?—had I not poisoned the source of her being? and with her wrung heart, must she not pine away, till merciful Heaven reclaimed its unequalled creation? My child too——but what claim had I to a husband’s or a father’s name?

“One evening, as I sat in a room at a tavern, my temporary place of abode, gloomily reflecting on my situation—recurring, in agony of soul, to the happiness that I had forever cast from me, and painfully endeavoring to suggest to myself some plan by which I might retrieve, in part, my fallen fortunes, there was a knock at the door, and Roberts entered the room. He had been absent for some time, in one of the northern states, and he now approached me with seeming joy, and as if he anticipated from me an equally cordial welcome. His presence, however, was any thing but pleasing to me. I was largely indebted to him for money lost and loaned at cards; and when did debtor meet his creditor with joy at his heart? Besides, I had begun to feel, that but for my association with this man, I should never have plunged into the vortex that had overwhelmed me. He was aware of my coldness, and broke out with—‘Why, W., my dear fellow, what is the matter? Is this the way you receive an old friend after a six months’ absence? But you seem to be in the dumps; has any thing unusual occurred to fret you?’

“‘Why do you put such a question?’ replied I; ‘do you not know that I am a ruined man—that every thing I could call my own has been torn from me—that I am a wanderer, covered with shame, heaped with obloquy, steeped in poverty? and do you expect, under such circumstances, to find my heart bounding with joy, or my face mantled with smiles? To be plain with you, Roberts, I was thinking of you just as you made your appearance, and I will tell you what was passing in my mind. Memory had gone back to the time of our first acquaintance, when I was in possession of all most valued by man: wealth, that seemed scarcely to have a limit—a reputation, unbreathed upon by reproach—the affections of one whose equal I have never met, and the unspeakable blessing of a pure conscience. All, save one, of these have fled—perhaps that too is gone; and all this is your work. Yes, sir, yours! But for you, I should never have been tempted to play; but for you, I should have abandoned in time the vile pursuit. Yes, sir, it was you who urged me on, by stimulating me with false hopes that fortune would not always frown—that one lucky cast would retrieve all, and a thousand specious tales that won upon my credulous ear; and when, amid reflections such as these, you presented yourself in person, you can hardly suppose that you could have been very welcome.’

“‘W——,’ replied Roberts, ‘I have had a long ride to-day, and feel heartily tired. It was my intention to go to bed as soon as I should reach this house. But the landlord informed me you were here, and as a friend I hastened to see you. Some would feel offended at the reception I have met with, but I can make every allowance for the feelings that irritate you, and I feel it my duty not to leave you until I have somewhat calmed your present mood. Whenever I get into trouble, and feel a disposition to give way to misfortune, the first thing I do is to sit quietly down, with a comfortable glass and a good cigar, and philosophize upon the matter; and by your leave, you shall follow my prescription. Come, come, I will take no denial; we will talk over your affairs soberly and calmly, and the odds are ten to one but we strike upon some plan which, if boldly and industriously pursued, will set all things straight again. You will not drive me from you, will you? O no, I see that you will not.’

“When the refreshments he had ordered had been produced, Roberts resumed. ‘Where is your wife, W., and how is she?’ I informed him. ‘And you, I suppose, are a less welcome guest than she at her father’s? Well, all that will come right too. By the bye, the old gentleman should not be quite so rigid about this matter of play as he is. Many a cool hundred has he won of my father; but I have observed, that your reformed sinner always makes a persecuting saint. Let that rest, and tell me, candidly, are you entirely destitute?’

“‘Utterly, utterly,’ replied I.

“‘Are your debts all paid?’

“‘You know they are not; I have not paid you.’

“‘Pshaw!’ said Roberts, ‘never mind me. Have you paid others?’

“‘They have paid themselves.’

“‘Good! Have you formed any plan by which you expect to support yourself and family.’

“‘None,’ replied I. ‘But if I had, what means do I possess to put any scheme into execution?’

“‘Let us hit upon the scheme, and we shall find the means,’ said Roberts; ‘my purse, as well as yours, is at present at the lowest ebb. A rascal that I entrusted with a snug sum, has decamped, and left me in the lurch; and a fellow whose bond I held, has smashed, and won’t pay a shilling in the pound. But I started in life with nothing, and have been so often reduced to the same condition as at first, that, as you perceive, I take the thing quite coolly. It is true, I am a single man, and there is no one depending upon me—otherwise, I might feel the matter more seriously; but I should not sit down, and mope, and scold my friends, W——: I should be but the more prompt, the more decided, and the more persevering in my actions. Let me see; you have as yet proposed nothing to yourself. What say you to turning merchant?’

“‘I know nothing about business,’ I replied, ‘and besides, I have neither capital nor credit.’

“‘The law, then? Your talents and education combine to fit you for that profession.’

“‘And what am I to live on, while I pursue the necessary study?’

“‘That’s true; one thing then is clear—money you must have, and that at once. That being the case, there is but one way to obtain it.’

“‘And that is—’

“‘By winning it,’ replied Roberts.

“I started from my chair, and walked up and down the room with violence.

“‘Now I pray you be calm, and listen to me attentively,’ continued the tempter. ‘You would not, I presume, object to getting back some of your losses by the same means that you made them?’

“‘And if I should not, how am I to know that I can? Has it not been, all along, my endeavor to do so, and has not each attempt invariably plunged me in deeper? Besides, I cannot play without a stake.’

“‘Let me put this question to you, W——,’ said Roberts. ‘Suppose you knew that a man had defrauded you of a certain sum of money; you had no proof, however, which could establish his guilt, and enable you to recover in a court of law. Would you, if he were by accident placed in your power, hesitate to force from him what he had deprived you of—nay, would you not deem yourself justified in using artifice to place him in that situation.’

“I replied that I could not tell; possibly under such circumstances I might do so.

“‘To be sure you would,’ rejoined Roberts, ‘and all the world would applaud the deed.’

“‘But whither does your question lead?’ asked I.

“‘Patience, and you shall hear,’ replied he. ‘Do you remember playing a game of brag in company with C. and F. and myself, on which occasion you and your humble servant were left minus a few thousands?’

“‘Certainly,’ said I, ‘I remember it but too well.’

“‘Well,’ resumed Roberts, ‘we, poor innocent lambs, were cursing our ill-luck—luck indeed! ha, ha! there was no luck in the matter; we were fairly pigeoned—damnably cheated, sir!’

“‘How do you know, Roberts? By Heaven, if I thought so, I would make an example of them.’

“‘Oh! sir, you could not prove it!’

“‘How do you know the fact, I repeat?’

“‘Because I have seen them playing together since, when I was not interested in the game, and could watch them coolly and closely, and I did so; and I am perfectly satisfied in my own mind that there was collusion between them. Now, for the drift of my question; I say, it would be perfectly justifiable in us to pay these knaves in their own coin—to turn the tables upon them, and so get back the cash they fobbed from us, and that, I take it, would be a pretty little capital to begin the world with again.’

“‘There is certainly nothing to object to on the score of justice,’ said I, ‘but I question if such a scheme would be deemed honorable among gentlemen.’

“‘I cannot answer for their abstract opinions,’ said Roberts, ‘nor do I greatly care for them; but this I know, that among the whole circle of my acquaintance, which is tolerably extensive, there is not one who would hesitate about the matter.’

“‘But what means shall we employ? If they be the rascals you have described, will they not be keen enough to detect us?’

“‘I defy them,’ said Roberts. ‘Leave every thing to me. To-morrow you shall be instructed; it is necessary now that I should sleep. Do you so, likewise, and be assured that your situation will soon be changed for the better. In the meantime you will need money; there are fifty dollars, half of all I have—take them; you will soon be able to repay me. Good night! and hark ye, no more despondency, but look the world boldly in the face, and smile with contempt upon fate, as I do.’

“Perhaps, Mr. S., you are surprised that I should so easily have assented to this vile proposal. There had been a time, sir, when I should have treated it as a personal insult; but I was not then a broken-down gambler. My principles had not been sapped by continual contact with the unworthy; the degrading and unhallowed desire of gain had not fastened on my soul, and corroded my sense of honor. One must have been crushed and miserable as I was, before he can be sure of his power to resist the tempter.

“Our scheme was soon executed; we regained our losses from ——, and something more besides, and I was once more out of the reach of absolute want. I hired a small house, where, very much against the inclination of her family, I placed Emily. One of her sisters accompanied her, for her continually declining health rendered the sympathies of a female friend absolutely necessary. I once more resolved to abandon play. The suggestion thrown out by Roberts with regard to the study of the law, although doubtless not seriously intended by him, had been frequently present to my mind. I now determined to pursue that avocation, and felt every confidence in my capacity to succeed. I compared myself with those around me who bore a reputation in the profession, and felt proudly conscious that in talent I was their equal. I told my wife of this. Her only answer was a deep sigh, that seemed to shake her slender frame, and these words: ‘I hope it may be so, Charles; for your sake, I hope it may be so.’ I felt nettled at the doubt implied, but I replied not. I had deceived her too often to dare to remonstrate. My studies were commenced, but I had little calculated on the difficulties of my task. It had been a long time since I had taken a book into my hand, and I found it almost impossible to chain down my attention to the subject before me. My eyes would be fixed on the page, but my mind would wander far, far away from it. Sentence after sentence was perused and reperused, but no distinct meaning was conveyed to my understanding. I would sit for hours in one fixed attitude, lost in total abstraction, and when recalled to myself by some accidental circumstance, the visions which had been floating in my mind were as scattered and unintelligible as the wildest fancies of a foolish dream. It was impossible to study.

“One morning, after repeated and unavailing attempts to overcome this state of mind, I threw down my book in despair, and went forth into the open air, to try if exercise would not bring relief. It was a lovely day in spring, the trees had just shot out their tender leaves, the birds were pealing forth their joyous notes, a thousand insects were dancing in the balmy air. It was a day on which a heart at ease might feel most happy; but to me the blessed sun no longer shone with brightness, and my bosom was cold to those charms of nature which had once made it thrill with gladness. I wandered on, knowing and caring little where I bent my steps, when, at a sudden turn of the road, I encountered Roberts.

“‘Well met!’ said he. ‘I was on my way to see you. I have good news for you.’

“‘Indeed,’ replied I, sadly, ‘let me have them, then, for there is no one to whom they could be more welcome.’

“‘Another chance, W——, to get back some of your cash, and if I mistake not, a pretty good lump of it too. I am to give a dinner to-day, a bet I lost—lost purposely, my boy, and you must come; we will try conclusions with the gentlemen again, and with rather better chances of success than we formerly had. Turn back and get your horse, and as we ride along I’ll tell you all about it.’

“‘I must decline your invitation,’ replied I.

“‘That you shall not!’ said Roberts.

“‘It is useless for me to go, Roberts, for I will not play. I am convinced that I cannot win by fair means, and I will not resort to any other.’

“‘You can do as you please about that, but I must have you with me; it will be of service to you; it will cheer you up, and show your friends that you are not the man to give way to misfortune. Believe me, the world respects every one who shows it a bold front. Indeed you must not refuse me; I shall feel hurt if you do.’

“I went. Is it necessary to say that night was spent in play, and with the aid of my honest partner, I did not lose. The ice was now fairly broke. I could no longer refuse to join Roberts in his schemes of plunder. I was in his power, and felt that he could blast me by a single word. But some suspicions began to be entertained; my success was too uniform for one who had formerly lost so constantly, and it was therefore concerted between Roberts and myself, that I should occasionally seem to lose to him, making a subsequent settlement with him in private.

“There was a young man, son of the Sheriff of the County of ——, who acted as deputy to his father, a very worthy and respectable man, who had served with great credit in the continental army, and brought up and maintained, by his industry, a numerous family. He himself paid no attention to the affairs of his office, but confided them entirely to the activity and integrity of his son, who had won general respect and popularity by the zeal and fidelity with which he discharged his duties, and the gentleness and mercy he exhibited, when called on to put in force the harsh decrees of the law. I had but little acquaintance with either the young man or his father, nor, in all probability, would the latter have been much pleased to have his son in habits of intercourse with me. I had attended a session of the court on some business, and was detained too late to admit of my reaching home that day. Several others were in the same situation—among them, Roberts. After supper he took me aside, and asked me if I recollected Wallis.

“‘No,’ I replied, ‘I remember no such person.’

“‘You have a bad memory, then,’ said he; ‘I never forget those who win my money,’ and he recalled to my mind the individual who had held the faro bank at the races.

“‘What of him?’ I inquired. ‘Does he think to take me in again?’

“‘O, no,’ replied Roberts, with a laugh, ‘we have learned rather too much for that. But I have been talking with him; he will open a bank to-night, and he agrees that you and I shall be equally interested. It shall be my business to get him betters; and as there are several here whose pocket-books are well filled, I think we shall make a handsome adventure of it. For the sake of appearances, you know, we too must bet against him, and he will permit us to win largely, for the purpose of enticing others. Is it not capitally contrived?’

“‘But may not this Wallis betray us hereafter?’

“‘Not the slightest danger of it; he is as close as wax. I know him of old; and besides, he is under obligations to me that he cannot violate if he would.’

“‘Roberts,’ said I, ‘do you feel no remorse? Does not conscience upbraid you with the meanness, the guilt of your course? Have you no misgivings, when you behold the agony of those you defraud?’

“‘Have you such feelings?’ said Roberts.

“‘I have!’ replied I. ‘They torture me by night and by day. The hell that burned within me when, like a madman, I scattered my wealth to the winds, was ease, was happiness, to what I now endure, and if the hour of detection should ever come,—but that——I could not and I would not survive!’ I clasped my hands together, and shook with fear at the very thought.

“Roberts gazed at me some little time in silence, and his countenance assumed a bitter sneer. At length he broke forth.

“‘Conscience! Remorse! ha! ha! Because I have lived too long to be a dupe? Most men, in the greenness of youth, are fools, and ripen, with age and experience, into knaves. There are some, however, who are early wise, and they, if circumstances permit, become great and distinguished; and some, who are always silly, and these are reckoned virtuous, and become the footballs of the others. For my part I was not made to be kicked. I have found out that I must be the wolf or the lamb; I prefer to be the beast of power. There is not one of those men that you see there, who would not, if they could, strip us to the last farthing. I play their own game, and place them where they would place me. And for this, forsooth, I must feel remorse! I find the whole system of society based upon a cheat; every one endeavors to overreach his neighbor, and the most successful is the most respected. Shall I not strive among the rest? You have been defrauded of a princely fortune and reduced to absolute want. I have let you into the secret of your misfortunes, and taught you how to retaliate your wrongs on others, and you prate to me of conscience and remorse. Well then, if conscience be to you this dreadful torment, in the name of common sense obey its dictates. Be wholly one thing or another. Go to those with whom you have played of late, and hand them back their money. Tell them they were cheated; that you see through the evil of your ways, and come to make restitution; once more throw yourself back on poverty, and see how highly the world will applaud the act! They say there is exceeding joy over a repentant sinner in heaven. Do you try how much there is on earth. But I am losing time. Am I to understand that you decline sharing with Wallis and myself?’

“‘No,’ I replied, ‘it is my fate; I have gone too far to recede, and I must endure, as I can, the loss of self-respect.’

“We parted, mixing in with the general crowd. It was not long before Roberts had collected various persons around him, who seemed to be listening with great attention to something he was narrating, which, to judge from their frequent peals of laughter, was highly humorous. No one knew better than he how to afford entertainment to others. His manner was admirable; his very laugh was a provocative to mirth. Without being boisterous, it was the most joyous, careless, lighthearted burst of gaiety that I ever listened to. Of those who were most attracted by him, was the young man I have before mentioned, the son of the old sheriff. He seemed to be in an ecstasy of delight, and Roberts fooled him ‘to the top of his bent.’ They drank together, they sang together, and committed various extravagances; Roberts declaring that he was just in the humor for a frolic, and a frolic he would have. Presently cards were introduced, I know not at whose suggestion, and I was told by some one that a faro bank was about to be opened, and I received the information as if it were new to me. We soon afterwards adjourned to another room, and the game was commenced. At first I did not bet, or rather appeared not to do so, but stood looking on at the others, and marking the vicissitudes of the game. To my surprise and regret I saw the sheriff’s son at the table, for I had always heard him spoken of as a moral and prudent youth, and, moreover, I had not supposed he possessed the means to play. I observed, however, that although evidently flushed with what he had been drinking, he staked with caution, and would not, in all probability, win or lose any thing of consequence, and I thought nothing more of the matter. About midnight, after going through the mockery of apparently winning some hundreds, I threw myself upon a couch and slept. It was daybreak when I awoke, but the lights were still burning, and the gamesters, undiminished in number, as eager as ever in their play. Roberts was among them, and I, being desirous of returning home, took him aside to acquaint him with my intention. He objected to my doing so, stating that he was excessively fatigued, and must sleep a few hours himself; that he had forborne to awake me, and I must now take my turn to watch, for it was better that one of us should observe how things were going on; that so far, owing to the most singular run of luck on the part of one individual that he had ever witnessed, the bank was loser. I inquired how his young companion had fared. He had lost rather heavily. ‘But surely,’ said I, ‘he cannot afford to do so.’ He replied very carelessly, ‘that’s his own affair. I did not urge him to play. The truth is, he received yesterday a considerable sum of money in payment of an execution, and very possibly he may be using the funds. I suppose he knows that he can make it all good. But go you now and sit down, and wake me in a couple of hours, that will be sufficient repose for me.’

“I was fain to comply with his request. Before the two hours had elapsed, however, a messenger arrived with the intelligence that my wife had been taken alarmingly ill. Rousing Roberts, I immediately departed and pushed forward with all possible speed; but the distance was considerable and the road execrable, and several hours were consumed before I reached home. All was quiet. Leaping from my horse I rushed towards the house; a feeling of faintness came over me, and I was obliged to pause and lean against the door-post for support. Rousing my energies I proceeded to my wife’s chamber, and knocked gently for admittance. A faint voice desired me to enter. I did so, and was met by Emily’s sister, who was weeping bitterly. Not a word was spoken—she pointed to the bed and left me. I softly approached and with a trembling hand I drew aside the curtain.

“Did she sleep? The eyes were closed, the face serene and almost smiling. I took her hand—it was cold and clammy to the touch. I gently pressed her bosom. Was it a throb that I felt? No—that heart had ceased to beat, had ceased to feel. Life with all its bitterness had fled. The enfranchised spirit had soared to its native home. I gazed in silence. I did not weep, I did not groan. There was a benumbing, icy thrall that bound up every faculty; it was pain, it was agony, but it left no power to express that pain.

“I heard a feeble sob: Whence did it proceed? I had thought I was alone. I moved in the direction of the sound. Stretched upon the floor, his face buried in his little hands, lay my boy. I kneeled beside him; I raised and strained him to my breast. ‘Oh, let me go,’ said he, ‘mother is gone; I want to go to mother. She said she would ask her God to keep a place for me, and God is good, I know, and he will do it. Father, lay me down there with mother.’”

Mr. W—— here bent his head and wept like a child. It is fearful to see an old man weep. Presently he resumed.

“I left the chamber of death, and retired to the room I had used as a study. What was passing in my mind I am utterly unconscious of. The past, the present and the future, were mingled in one common chaos. I was lost in a reverie that seemed protracted beyond the years of man. Of the mass of confused and unintelligible ideas that were swarming in my brain, one at length stood out clear and distinct, and gathered strength as I brooded over it. It was self-destruction. It rose upon me, a cheering light, shedding gladness over my dark and desperate fortunes. The intolerable weight which had pressed upon my mind was at once uplifted, the pent-up agony which had racked my heart passed off, and visions of peace, of a deep, enduring calm, floated before me, unmixed with a doubt or dread of the untried future. There was a loaded pistol lying on the table; in an instant it was in my grasp, but heaven in its mercy saved me from that crime—a sudden icy pang transfixed me; utterly enfeebled I sank to the floor, my senses fled, and I was as one who is numbered with the dead, or who had never breathed among the living.

“When reason was again restored to me, I found myself stretched upon a bed. I recognized the apartment in which I lay; it had been my wife’s. I tried to move, but had not the strength to do so. I heard a step in the room and essayed to speak; my voice was scarce a whisper; the light in the chamber was dim, but my eyes could not endure it. I again closed them and sank into sleep.

“When I awoke, a physician and a nurse were standing at the bed side. I would have spoken, but they bade me be quiet; and I was even as a child, and submitted. For many weeks had disease preyed upon me, and existence been suspended by a single thread which would not break. Slowly I recovered, my strength was restored to me, but never, from that day to the present moment, has this withered heart known peace.

“I have but little more to say. From my medical attendant I learned that the young man who had been fleeced at the tavern, stung by remorse, and unable to make good the money he had lost, had swallowed a deadly draught. His aged father, stripped of his little all to pay the debt, broken-hearted by the villainy in which I had participated, was thrown with his helpless family upon the reluctant bounty of society. Wallis and Roberts had fled, it was supposed, to the South. My son had been taken home by his grandfather. I have never seen him since I pressed him to my bosom in his mother’s death chamber. He was and is dear to me as the hope of heaven to the martyr’s heart, but his eye shall never look upon the degraded being who gave him life.

“While listening to the recital of the physician, amid pangs that gnawed my soul, I formed the resolution of quitting my country, never again to return, and in some foreign land, in an humble occupation, with rigid economy and ceaseless industry, to build up another fortune; not for the luxuries it might purchase, or the comforts it might afford me in age, but that I might, as far as money could avail, repair the mischief which I had assisted in perpetrating, and the injustice I had been guilty of towards my child.

“I watched the sun as he threw his slant rays on the fields and the forests, familiar to me as the face of a friend, and when he sank beneath the horizon, commenced the preparations for my departure. I had some money; retaining as much as was absolutely necessary for my expenses, and no more, I enclosed the remainder to my physician, with a request that he would, after remunerating himself, pay the rest to the poor old sheriff. I also despatched a note to my father-in-law, stating my intention to leave the country, and imploring him, for the mother’s sake, to bestow every care and attention on her child, and to call him by her maiden name. This done, in the dead of the night I set out on my journey, and took the direction of the sea port of ——. Thence, under an assumed name, I embarked for this island, and here I have since remained, steadily pursuing the course I had laid down for myself. My labors have been crowned with success beyond my hopes, and I am now the possessor of much greater wealth than I inherited. When I was in England, a mere youth, an opportunity occurred of rendering an important service to an acquaintance, at that time very needy, but who has since become a partner in one of the most extensive banking houses in London. Instead of burying my money in the ground, as the wiseacres here have surmised, I have regularly remitted my gains to him, and by his judicious management of them in the British funds, they have reached their present amount. Through him too, I have received intelligence of my son, on whose education no expense has been spared. He has applied himself to the profession of the law, and is considered as fast rising to eminence. I could long ago have rendered him independent of labor, but I deemed it best that he should earn his bread by the sweat of his brow. That portion of man’s doom is not a curse.

“And now, Mr. S., it simply remains for me to acquaint you with the service which I wish you to render me. You will ascertain as soon as may be after your arrival in Virginia, what descendants there are of —— the former sheriff of ——, their situation in life and character; not that I mean to withhold from them what is justly their due, be they ever so vile; for may they not, if vicious, trace their very crimes to my unprincipled conduct? but that by being correctly informed of their pursuits and habits, I may be enabled to judge in what manner and to what extent, I can best act to their advantage. You will also seek the acquaintance of my son, and if you can become his friend. Write to me, and tell me candidly what he is; but until I sleep in death do not speak to him of me. You will not be condemned to a long silence, for I feel that my days are numbered. All necessary documents will be placed in your hands before your departure hence. You are my executor. Farewell.”

LIFE’S STREAM.

BY LUCY T. JOHNSON.

Elfin Moor, Va. 1836.

AN ADDRESS

Delivered before the Students of William and Mary, at the Opening of the College, on Monday, October 10th, 1836.

BY THOMAS R. DEW, President and Professor of Moral and Political Philosophy.¹

¹ Repeated calls from the friends of William and Mary, as well as our own high estimation of this Address, have induced us to publish it. It will be understood, of course, that the M.S. originally, was solicited of Professor Dew for publication, by a Committee on the part of the Students. We omit the correspondence as of no general interest.

Gentlemen:—In obedience to the customs of our institution, I proceed to address you on the present occasion; and I do it, I assure you, with feelings of no ordinary character. When I reflect upon the antiquity and reputation of this venerable institution,—upon the numerous alumni who have been sent forth from its halls, so many of whom have graced the walks of private life, or risen into the high places of our government, and shed around them the benign influence of their talents and statesmanship,—when I reflect upon the long line of efficient and distinguished men who have preceded me in this office, and upon the character and virtues of him who was my predecessor, I cannot but feel a weight of responsibility which excites in me a deep and painful solicitude. For eight years it was my pleasure to be associated with him whose place I have been called to fill. His learning, his piety, his conscientiousness in the discharge of his duties, however onerous, will long be remembered by all who knew him well; and the regret manifested in the countenances of the citizens of our town when he bade them an affectionate farewell, marks conclusively the deep impression which his virtues and usefulness had made upon their hearts, and the loss which our society has sustained by the departure from among us of one, who, with his amiable family, constituted so interesting a portion of our social circle. Again, then, let me say, I enter upon the duties of my station with deep and painful solicitude, sustained alone by the consciousness, that I shall yield to none who have gone before me in this office, in zeal, fidelity, and love for our venerated Alma Mater.

I shall not, on the present occasion, endeavor to present to your view an exposition of the general advantages resulting from education; the limits which I have prescribed to myself in this address, together with the necessity of introducing other topics, will, of course, prevent me from such an effort. Nor is it necessary;—your presence in this hall—your determination to subscribe to our laws, and to obey the requisitions of our statutes, prove that you have already comprehended the inestimable benefits of education, and have come up here to pursue your collegiate career.

As it is probable there may be students in every department of our college, and each one may be anxious to know something of our entire system previous to the selection which he may make of the courses of study for his attendance, I will, in the first place, give you some information as to our general plan. Our plan embraces a course of general study, which may be pursued to great advantage by all having the time and means, no matter what may be their professions in after life. Besides this course of general study, it embraces the subject of law, and aims at accomplishing the student in one of the learned professions.

Let me then commence with the subject of the classics. In this school we have a preparatory department, in which the student may acquire that elementary instruction requisite for the successful study of the higher classics. As but few of you, however, will, in all probability, wish to enter this school, I shall confine the remarks which I have to make on this subject to the higher classical studies. In one department of this higher school, the attention of the student will be confined to the following authors: Horace, Cicero de Oratore, Terence, Juvenal, Livy and Tacitus, in Latin—and to Xenophon’s Anabasis, Æschylus, Herodotus, Euripides, Sophocles, Thucydides, and Homer in Greek.

He will be required to read them with facility—to construe them—to explain their meaning—to master portions of history which may be referred to, and to acquire a thorough and intimate acquaintance with the whole philosophy of the Latin and Greek Grammars. In this school it is expected that the classic student shall complete his knowledge of the ancient languages. I would therefore recommend it to all who may have the time and inclination to pursue such studies, or whose profession in after life may demand deep classical learning.

The knowledge of the ancient languages is far more important to us than that of any other, save our own. At the time that the barbarians from the north and east broke up the Roman Empire, and engrafted the feudal system on its fragments, whence the nations of modern Europe have arisen, the Latin and Greek languages were the two great languages of the civilized portion of the ancient world. It is necessary to study them in order that we may be enabled to understand their transition into the modern languages; the latter are derivations from the former. It has been well observed that there is not a single nation from the north to the south of Europe, from the shores of the Baltic to the plains of Italy, whose literature is not imbedded in the very elements of classical learning, and this remark applies particularly to the literature of England. But again, in order that you may understand well the classical authors put into your hands, it is necessary that you should become acquainted with the manners, customs, institutions and religion of the ancient world. Great and mighty changes have taken place in the condition of man since the fall of the vast fabric of the Roman Empire. The whole interior economy of nations has been changed. The complex system of polytheism, with its thousand of forms, and ceremonies, and sacred mysteries, has all been overthrown, and the beautiful and simple religion of the meek and humble Saviour of the world traced, as with the pencil of light, upon the sacred page, and revealed even unto babes, has been established in its stead. This great and salutary change alone, has stamped a new character upon the age in which we live. How vast the difference between a Priest of Jupiter and a Minister of the Gospel! How great the difference between the Eleusinian mysteries of the Polytheist, and the communion service of the Christian! In order then that you may be enabled to read the classic authors to advantage, and apply with skill the lessons which you may draw from the page of ancient history, it is necessary that you should study the laws, customs, institutions, religion, and polity of Greece and Rome. For this reason, there has been recently attached to our classical department, a school of Roman and Grecian Antiquities, and Heathen Mythology, in which you will be enabled to derive full and complete information on all these topics.