The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1845-05-02
From the Portland (Me.) Gazette.
TRUTH, NOT FICTION.
M MRS. CASE.

such as it is believed those skeleton facts will ad-
nit II may remind the reader of an awful ira
gedy acted some years ago in kentucky.l
The summer sunlight lay rich and warm
over one Of the most beautiful villages of
the West. A handsome house stood in
the outskirts, half hidden by the magnif-
cent forest trees that the good taste of the
first proprietor had spared, and by vines
Of mere recent growth. These last crep,
around the door-ways. aud over many of
the first story windows, in the larges, lib
erty; their unpruned luxurance shutting
out view OF the street, and almost eX
Guiding the sunlight from the setting
rooms on that side. The rose bushes in
the garden also, had done their best unre-
buked 10 darken the windows that looked
that way. and the flower beds were cho-
ked with weeds, where they bore no evil
dence Of the tread of reckless and impa-
tent footsteps.
At the end Of the long alleys that ran
across the bottom of it, and completely
hidden by the thick shrubbery from all
gazers, both from the house and road, a
young girl stood, practising pis,ol-shoot-
ing. She was not tall, yet the proud,
commanding air of her whole person,
gave dignity to her appearance and
spoke of self-reliancc and determination.
Her features were beautiful, notwiths,an-
ding they were agiiated by The fierce dis
order of her mind. Her blonde hair, and
delicate skin of satin smoolhness, though
now slightly embrowned by such expo.
sure as this, told Of the ballroom. and gay
saloon, more than of her present fearful
employment.
Her mark was chalked circle in stout
fruit tree, some eight or ten PAGES distant,
and she seemed to have been unsuccess-
full. for her arched eyebrows contracted
10 frown, as she was loading for anoth-
er trial Of her skill and she mu,tered
through her clenched teeth. Stupid
how stupid! But never mind-practice
makes peJecr-uttering an old adage,
and again taking aim. This time she
succeeded in planting the bullet in the
centre Of the chalked ring. A smile of
triumph displaced the frown, and she
spoke freely, and almost gaily-'Better |!
l shall succeed yet, but must have lit
tie more practice She was again prepa-
ring 10 load the pistol, when she heard a
rushing amongst the shrubbery, and foot
steps coming along the alley. She hur-
richly placed the pistol in her bosom, but
not so quickly as to escape the eye of the
pale misunderstanding matron who ap-
preached, and whose habitual care-worn
expression then gave way to one OF I'M
disguised terror. She rushed toward her,
exclaiming in piercing tone of alarm
ANNE! Anne what are you doing!'
ooh, nothing, mother, that need to frigh-
ten you So
But saw you hide a pistol; what
could you be doing with thal!' pursued
the anxious mother, still thinking her
daughter had medita,ed suicide.
You do not believe me mother, but
look l am only learning to hit marx.
Anne Morele took out the pistol, load
cd it, and again sen. the bullet into the
centre of the circle.
Pleased with her success, she smiled
more triumphantly Shan before, and her
mother heard her voice resume some
thing Of its former tone of gladncss as she
rejoined, why should not learn shoot.
ing, as well as if l were man, dear moth
err | must have something TO employ
me-somelhing exciting, and what can |
have better than this? Besides, who
knows what use it may be to me some
day!' These last words were in low
peculiar tone, and then, as if fearing to be
questioned, she added, 1T may save your
life, or mine, my mo,her!'
Mrs. Morelle seemed satisfied with the
words Of her daughter. and pleased TO see
her again taking intcres! in anything; for
she had so long stunned exercise and en-
ployment that her health was giving way,
and her mother feared, her mind also.
She said, We'll, Anne. put as many balls
as you like into the apple tree, some 9th.
cr time; Clayton is waiting now to see
you
DO not tell him what you found me
doing mother! He will say it is unwo.
manly-you will not tell him, will you ?
No, no, Anne, tell your own secrets
when you wish, | will not be,ray them
only come soon, and do not keep him
waiting
Mrs. Morelle passed up the walk ard
entered the house, and Anne, after con.
cealing her pistol in her dress, followed
after her mother.
Anne Morelle was but little past TWEEN
~, yet in the last two years, she had &C