Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1847-03-26

willingly consented to the transfer. Som,
weeks after. when he attempted to pass the
money the stranger had given him, he found
TO his dismay, that it was counterfeit. Afer
brooding over his disappointment for some
time, he cam to a conclusion at which be, Ter
educated men than himself have sometimes
arrived. He tboughtto himself-"It is hard
for a poor man to lose so much, by no fault
of his own. Since it was put off upon me. |
will Just put it off upon somebody else
Maybe it will keep going the rounds. or some
body will lose it that can better afford it than
| cam"
1t certainly was a wrong conclusion /; but
il was a bewilderment of The reasoning pow
ers in the mind of an ignorant man, and did
not involve wickedness of intention. He
passed the money, and was soon after arrest
ed for forgery. He told his story plainly (;
but, as he admitted that he knew the money
was counterfeit when he passed it, the legal
construction of his crime was forgery in the
second degree. He had passsd three bills,
and had the penalty of the law been enforced
with its utmost rigor, he might have been
sentenced 10 the stale-prison for fifteen years;
but appearances were so much in his favor,
that The court sentenced him but for five
years.
Five years taken away from the young life
of a laboring man, spent in silent toll, in
shame and sorrow for "A blighted reputation,
was, indeed, heavy penalty for confused no.
tions of right and wrong, concerning bits Of
paper. stamped with a nomina' value. But
law, in lis wisest and kindest administrations,
cannot always make nice distinctions between
thoughtless errors and wilful crimes.
1t is probable James never felt the degree
of conjunction that it is supposed every con-
Wet ought 10 feel for the idea was ever with
him. that if he had sinned against government,
he cid not mean to sin against God. That
he had disgraced himself, he knew full well
and felt keenly. The thoughts of what No
ia and his good mother would suffer, if they
could see him driven TO hard labor with
thieves and murderers, tore his soul with an
guish. He could not bring his mind to write
10 them, or send them any lidings of his fate.
He thought IL was better that they should
suppose him dead. than know of his disgrace.
Thus the weary months passed silently away.
The laugh of his eye and the bound of his
step were gone. Day by day he grew more
disconsoIale and stupid.
lie had been in prison about four years,
when one Of the keepers told him that a
young woman had come to visit him, and he
had received permission to see her. He fol-
lowed silently, wondering who it could be
and a moment after he was locked in his sis
ter's arms. For some time, nothing but sobs
were az dible. They looked mournfully in
each others faces, then fell on each others
necks, and wept again.
"And so you know me, mauourneen ?"
said Nora, at last, trying to smile through
her tears.
"Know your' he replied, folding her more
closely TO his breast. "a cushId machree,*
and wouldn't | know your shadow on the
wall, in the darkest cellar they could put
ne in! But who came wild you, marour-
neen? 9"
"Troth, and it was alone | come. | run
away in the night. ] hope it wasn't wrong
to lave the good father and mother, when
they had spoke agin my coming. wouldn't
like to do any thing dispIasing TO God. But
Jimmy, m0chree, my heart was breakin' Wild
out you; and | couldn't lave you alone wild
your great trouble. Sure it's long ago l
would have been wild you, if you had let US
know of your misfortin."
The poor fellow wept afresh at these assur-
ances Of his sisters affection. When he was
calmer, he told her enthusiastically how the
great trouble had come upon him.
"God be praised for the words you spake,''
replied Nora. alt will take a load off of
hearts at home, when they hear of the same.
| always said there was no sin in your heart
for who should know better nor me, who
slept in the same cradle! A blessing be wild
you, mapourneen. The music's in my hear
to hear the sound of your voice agin. And
proud will ] be of you, as | used 10 be when
all eyes, young and old, frightened on you
in warm old Ireland"
"Dut Nora, GheeLish, the disgrace is or
me-" said the young man, looking down.
"They will say ! am a convict"
"Sorra a fig | care for what they say" re-
piled the warm-hearied girl. Don't know
the heart that is in you? Didn't | say there
was no sin in your iniinlions, though you ,Ca
shut up in this bad place! An if there had
been-if the black murder had been wIdir
you, is it Nora would be after having you
alone wild your sin and your shame? Troth
! would weary the saints in Heaven wild
prayers, till they made you a better man, fol
the sake of your sisters love. But there ,Ua
no sin in your heart, and proud | am out o
you, a suiAiSh mGchree, and bad luck to thu
rogue that brought you into this trouble"
The keeper reminded them that the tint
allowed for their interview was nearly spent
"You will rome agin!" said James, i'm
ploringly. "You will come to me agin
acashh mGchree:? 2"
81 had to beg hard to see you once" re
piled Nora. They said it was agin The rules
But when ! told them how | come alon
across the big ocean TO be wild you in your trou
BILE, because ] knew the heart that was in you
they said | might come in. 1t is a heav,
sorrow that we cannot spake together. Blu
it will be a comfort, mGpourneen, 10 be wher
| can look on these stone walls. The kin
man here they call the chaplain, says / ma.
stay wild his family; and sure not an hour
the day but ! will think of you, a riHiSh.
The same moon shines here, that used /
shine on us when we had our May dances o
the green, in dear old Ireland (; and when the
let you get a glimpse of her bright face, yo
can think maybe Nora is looking up at it, a
she used to do when she was your OWN wee
ny darlint, wild the shamrock and gowan il
her hair. | will work, and lay by money 70
you; and when you come out of this bal
place, it's Nora will stand by you; and prou'
will he out of VOL. n Sui{ieh m1chree,p