The Columbian fountain., 1846-09-11
Rev. J. I. WARD, Assistant Editor
PRICE ONE CENT.

into her breast; this pale guest Of sorrow
and the walls he sung were like the strains
of helps eternity, blighting, like the upas
tree, the beautiful flowers Of the heart. A
form stole out from beneath the shady tree.
He staggered as though from weakness;
and when he reached the moonit sward,
he knelt down.. The moon shone directly
on his face, and his uncovered locks stream
ed behind him His countenauce was pale
and ghas,ly the deep fqrrows of grief
were ploughed upon his brow; and none,
save the eye Of love, could have recogniz-
ed in that emaciated, altered frame, the
once manly form Of Rupert Graland. But
Julie knew him, and with single glance
at his pallid face and beseecbing eyes with
a slight shrek, she swooned away. i6ps
7# sa a ~1a ~
Rupert Graland married; but he loathed
the wife of his bosom, for he loved her not.
IT'S terrible doom to be linked with one we
cannot love He sought the pleasures of
the bottle-of the gaming table-but the
voice of love rung above them all and its
wall, even now, is echoing in his bosom.
An author states truly, "Que les affections
de l'homme, refoulees en- lui par l'ingrati-
tude ct Ia trahison, l'ont seche CONNIE une
famine interieure." Sand here you behold
the wreck of what was once the admired
Rupert Graland." And he arose. Come"
said he, Sand will show you where Julie
dwells She is poor now for her husband,
step by step, has sunk, and now nightly he
reels his way home, to clasp in his drunken
embrace the once beautiful Julie Courtland."
Across the fields we wended our way and
in a neat little cottage saw female bend
ing over her work The light shone on her
face as she raised her head and my heart
beat thick at seeing for the first time my
souls ideal. But. was changed. Her
cheek was pale, and her dark eye spoke the
language of sorrow. could plainly see
that grief had sweep his hand over her
heartstrings; and his melody was discord
a ceaseless dirge over broken heart.
II was the noon Of night. There was no
morning, yet it was not dark. A dreary
heath, where the rustling weeds quiver in
the night winds, was lined on one side by
a border of ceder and Of holly, that fringed
a deep ravine. Twas the "Demon's Hol-
low" There was form feeling its way
by its edge, silently staggering above the ra-
vine. Another form lay lurking by its edge,
and when the reeling man came up, he leap
ed to his feet and grasped him by the throat.
Then was deadly struggle for the'fumes
Of liquor quickly dispelledthe fear; and that
instructive love Of life was burning in the
drunkard's heart lighting up a wild courage.
1t was wild scene. They writhed and
toiled each for mastery, they fought silent
ly, and the deep breathing told how deadly
was the hate--how deadly was the struggle.
A meteor, brighter than thousand stars,
burst forth, lighting up for an instant the
terrible scene. "Rupert Graland ~ burst
from the drunkard's lips. eyes! Arthur
Faulkner, yes stis Rupert Graland d-whom
you have blighted in his prime. And now
for thy hearts blood ~ More fercelydid
they struggle; nearer they approached the
ravine-when, with one wild hurl and hell
ish scream, Rupert Graland hurled Arthur
Faulkner into eternity. A wild maniac
langh--a yell Of joy-and Rupert Graland
fled, @.r,
He reaches the house where Julie Court
land is sitting with her brow upon her hand,
awaiting her husband. There is quick
step upon the stairs, and she raises her
head. The door OPENS, and Rupert Gra-
land is before her. In wonder she exclaim-
ed ed--"Rupert Graland ~ Eyes It's what
was once Rupert Graland. Hal ha! Ha !
ha" And his maniac yell sounded awful
ly strange. She turned shade paler and
grasped the chair for support. She spoke
not! And a wondrous tableau they pre-
scented. The madman and the pale, wither-
ed beauty. Now he approaches her near
err; she moves not; he k".4ls before her,
and the glance Of madness flies as he grasps
her hand. And the free tears flow down
his cheeks, and his choking voice feebly
utter these words. "Oh, Julie! pardon
pardon agnilty wretch J! lhave wronged
thee These hands have nurdered thy
husband ;--these ears heard his last death
scream. murdered him, for hated blm
as the demons In He'll hate God. Forgive
me, Julie. Forgive your once loved Ruper,
Gra-----" and the shade OF death passed
over his face---he fell back, stone dead
Twas terrible retibution.