Martinsburg gazette. [volume] (Martinsburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1833-1855, 1842-09-22


sadly in the corner, and the music of the
singing kettle wss not there. The siran-
ger raised his hands TO his eyes, but
what causes him to start ike frightened
bird II is bloody again, said he, with
look of horror.
ooh, that could wipe out that foul
that terrible stain, from my memory
Ha it is on my hand as fresh as when
murdered that poor, melancholy stranger.
God Of heaven, cannot wipe il out. -
The stranger bad cut his hand with bro
ken piece Of glass, and clot Of fresh
blood was upon It in reality. He felt not
the pain of the wound in his horror-and
satisfied that Heaven had marked him in
his own terrible way, he wiped off the
blood and turned to depart.
The sheriff was beside him, and ne
was arrested foi an attempt TO murder.
| lie preserved sullen silence. He fell
lowed the officer TO his carriage, and was
soon on his way to London. The prison
received its vlctim-and the gay world
smiled as brightly as before.
The day Of trial came. John Brown,
who had taken another name, was tried
as Samuel Jones, and the case brought
together vast concourse OF people of
both sexes. The prisoner was soon placed
at the bar. The jury was duly empan-
neled. The advocate for the crown was
in his place. The prisoners counsel was
beside hm--and The judge was upon the
bench. Brown, as be entered The dock,
had been so much ngr,ated by the dread
reality of his guilt, and the prospect of
speedy punishment, that he had not cast
his eye on the judge. He now looked
cautiously at him. He saw the keen eye
of the Judge fixed upon him, and he start.
ed with horror.
ooh, God ? said he, with loud voice,
while the sweat rolled down his chalk
like face, /. is the murdered man. la
he has come to Judge the guilty See
there ! his forehead is SCARED All. il
was deyish blow Back. back, say;
let the dead man look his fill? There's
blood upon my hand see there, thou un.
quiet spirit? that hand was reekng IN thy
gore; twas mercless when thou crledst
out-be mercilcss now IN thy turn, thou
man of the spirit land
Here the prisoner tainted and fell upon
the floor. A great sensation was caused
in court by this singular circumstance,
and it was not until order had been
shouted for some time that the trial was
suffered to go on. ltappears that Browns
neighbors all considered him guilty OF the
crime of endeavorlng to murder the lndl-
vidual named in the beginning OF this tale,
aud who was now the presiding Judge oil
the Old Bailey. The affidavit was kept
in green remembrance, especially by one
old farmer IN the nelghborhood of Hope
dale, who had appropriated Browns i"rm
to his own use, and who constantly watch
ed the murderer's return, for he knew hu-
man nature so well as to he certain that
no wretch can be SO callous as to forget
the spot sacred to childhood, innocence
and early love. The robber seeks his
home, the murderer seeks the shades OF
his once happy valley, the seducer wan
ders amid the bower where passion, like
a dark and damning torrent, burst away
the barriers between his soul aud hell.
The unfortunate man, ignorant OF his
wife's actions, and unconscious Of the GER
tifcate in her possession, Ignorant OF her
existence even, after long cruise in the
navy of England, returned to view the
pleasant homestead-the green valley
the quiet bill side, and the sunken graves
of his parents and children. He had met
the argus eyed SPECTATOR on his way
The old affidavit hung like the sword of
Damocles over his head, and thu lnlormer,
at sunset, saw the poor, broken-hearied
sailor borne away to London, ana, he
trusted, to lelon's grave. Man care
lessly feeds upon tue fruits that hang over
the churcii-yard wall, and gathers roses
from the sacred plains
"Wbere once the lifes blood, warm and wet,
Had dimmed tire glittering bayonet."
The trial tten proceeded; the evidence
was strong, and the jury, without quitting
their seats, pronounced the prisoner at
the bar GUILTY
Guilty 2 said Brown, rising to his feet,
can it be 2 All! must ole ielon's
desth-and poor wife. On that pang !
How her tender endearments rise up IN
Judgment against me her soft words,
how they thunder upon my soul Her
smiles of beauty aud innocence-great
God! how they scar my heaft-must |
then die without her forgiveness! On,
the thought is torture, ay, torture as dread.
full as that experienced by the vilest OF
the damned =
Here the prisoner became unnamed,
and burying his face in his ettered hands
wept like child. The strong passion OF
grief shook the prisoners limbs, and rat
tied the chains with terrible dstinctness.
A short silence ensued, and then the judge
put on his black cap, and prepared to pro.
nounce that awful sentence which never
can be pronounced without awakening the
dormant sensibihties OF the most degrad-
ed-which none, in fact, but the condemn.
ed, ever hear without flood Of tears.
Prisoner at the bar said the judge,
stand up Brown rose. What have
you to say why sentence of death should
no, be pronounced against you said the
Judge, continuing his remarks. A slight
rustling noise was now heard at the bar,
and female, in widows weeds, leaned
- L..1 a.,a. - enaak IN thu nriSoDpr