The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1846-09-12

broken, yet horrible in its slightest
tones, Sand / have summons for you,
also" The Bank President made an
involuntary start as the glare Of those
maniac eyes flashed upon him. 81 sub
pena you, yOu Job Joneson, to appear
at the Bar of Almighty God before day
break to-morrow!"
And he raised one thin hand to Heav-
en- while the other rested upon the
Bank Presidents shoulder. Joneson
shrunk from that touch--it was like
hot lead on the bare skin!
81 will be Merem whispered Davis.
"Theren' And he waved his thin hands
towards the stars. cat the Bar of God
Almighty before day-break to morrow!"
The Bank President raised his hands
to his eyes with an involuntary gesture.
When he again looked around, the ma
MAC was gone.
y =
The first object that met the view
was the body of a man flung over two
chairs, with his arms dropping heavily
to tho flour, and the long thin fingers
thouching the uncarpeted boards. A
miserable candle hall burnt to its sock
ct, and fixed in an old bottle, was plac-
ed on a rough pine table. The flicker
ing light fell on the face Of the man. 1t
was pale and livid, the lips hung apart
and the lower jaw was sunken. y y .
There was a cash across the throat Of
the man, and his dingy shirt was spot
ted with curdIed blood. =
"She died in my arms only half an
hour ago." chimed in the old dame,
SAN there but five minutes ago as |
was straightenin' her out on the bed,
her father poor John Davis comes in.
looks for an instant on the face OF his
child, and then--oh Lor', oh Lor'-he
cuts his throat from ear TO ear, and falls
on two chairs as dead as stone!"
"He is yet warm," muttered the Doc
tor, laying his hand on the dead mans
face. There is an awful Despair writ
ten in the face of that ghostly corse!"
4 * "Hallo! Is there any body
in this house?" cried a voice in thick
gruf tones.
sits the watchman," muttered the
widow, going to the head of the stairs
SIS that you, Mister Thompson?'
"Yes, it is widow" re piled the grufl
voice, "but here's man ia ken sick in
his carriage comm home from party,
and he wants help mighty bad"
"You see Master made a little too
free with the wine at Deacon Rogers
house," chimed in another voice. "An'
consequence is, he's took bad with an
appylectlc fit" &.
Between them, was the body of the
sick man. He groaned and struggled
as they laid him on the floor, and turn
ed his head from side to side, as though
the death rattle was in his throat.
As he turned from side to side, the
light fell upon the round fat face Of job
JoneSon, the Bank President.
"Well," screamed the man in livery,
"if there amt the man | turned from
Masters door last night-if there he amt
with his throat cut!"
The watchman looked upon the Sui
eide with start, and muttered distinct
Iy to himself the words, "ddm--foOl,"
Watchmen are great philosophers.
"Cantyou do nothin' forhim nobodyP'
said the man in livery. "He's my mas.
ter!'
81 am afraid all is over; however we
may bleed him. said the Doctor stoop.
ing down over the PROSTATE Bank
President.
The words had scarcely passed his
lips when Joneson rose on his knees
with a violent struggle.
"Where--w where he muttered as q
gurgling noise sounded in his throat
"Where re-am-l--ah!' His voice rose
into horrible shrek husky with the
death rattle. He beheld the ghastly
face of the Suicide.
"Ah-a-hn he groaned clutching at
his throat with his gouty hand. "At
the Bar Of God Almighty before day
break tomorrow?
With these words on his lips, he fell
"a shapeless mass Of clay. He had
obeyed the subpoena Of the Suicide; he
had gone to meet his pale Accuser be-
fore the Throne of Eternity.
The legalized Robber lay beside the
wretch whom he had plundered. The
well-fed Bank President who not ten
hours past, had refused the starving
Mechanic one solitary dollar, now lay
beside the victim of his lawfuI fraud,
like that victim, a loathsome mass Of
clay, on which worms would soon hold
their revel.
The good and merciful God has flung