Ypsilanti sentinel. [volume] (Ypsilanti, Washtenaw Co., Mich.) 1843-1900, 1847-03-24
From the Amaranth.
Henry ST. Clair.

Henry st. Clair.
HENRY ST. CLAIR How at the mention
of that name a thousand pleasing dreams o
| friendship and youth,-and OF the early and
beautiful associations which liAger like invisi
BILE spirits around us, to be called into view on
| ly be the magic influence of memory, are ava
kened How does the glance of retrospectior
90 back to the dim images of the past-fron
| the banquet hall and the pleasant festival dowr
| to the silent and unbroken solitude of the tomb
We were as brothers in childhood-St. Clai
and myself-brothers too in the dawning o
manhood; and a more ingenious and high mir
ded friend never knew. Yet he was strange
| ly proud-not of the worlds gifts-wealth, fam
ily and learning-but of his intellectual power
of the great gifts of mind which he possessed
the ardent and lofty spirits which shone ou
in his every action. And he might well bt
proud of such gifts. i never knew finer minC
1t was as the embodied spirit of poetry itself
the beautiful home of high and glorious aspi-
rations.
Henry st. Clair was never at heart chris
tain. He never enjoyed the vistations of thai
pure and pleased influence, which comes into
the silence and loneliness ofthe human bosom,
to build up anew the broken affairs of its faith
and revive the dropping flowers of Its desolated
affections. He loved the works OF the great
God with the love of an enthusiast, But beyond
the visible and outward forms-the passing
magnifcence of the heavens-the beauty and
grandeur of the earth, and the illimitable world
of waters, his vision never extended. Ills splr-
it never overlooked the clouds that surround II
to catch glimpse of the better andmore beau
tiful land.
/ need not tell the story of his young years.
1t has nothing to distinguish it from thousand
others. 1t is the brief and sunny biography of
one upon whose pathway the sunshine of hap
piness rested, unshadowed by passing cloud.
We were happy in our friendship-but the time
of manhood came; and we were parted by the
different interests, and by the opposite tendency
of circumstances peculiar to each other.
1t was night in autumn-a cold and starless
EVENING" remember it with painful distinct
ness, although year after year has mingled
with eternity-thatI had occasion to pass in
my way homeward, through one of the dark
est and loneliest alleys of my native city,
Anxious to reach my dwelling. 1 was hurry
ing eagerly forward, when felt myself sudden
ly seized by the arm; and voice close in my
ear whispered hoarsely-"Stop, or you are a
dead man y
turned suddenly. heard the cooking of a
pistol, and saw by faint CLEAN from neigh
boring window, the tall figure of a man-one
hand grasping my left arm, the other holding a
weapon at my breast
/ know not what prompted me to resistance /;
l was totally unarined, and altogether unac-
quainted with the struggle of mortal jeopardy.
But did resist-and one instant saw my as
sailant in the posture have described-the
next, he was disarmed, and writing beneath
me. 1t seemed as if an infants strength could
have subdued him.
"Wretch p exclaimed, as / held his own
pistol to his bosom, ''what is your object p
Are YOU a common midnight robber, or bear you
aught of private malice towards Roger ALI
ston O.
"Allston Roger Allston e repeated the
wretch beneath me, in voice which sounded
like shrek, as he struggled half upright even
against the threatening pistoi. 'Grcat God
has it come to this! He'll has no pang like
this meeting, Shootw-he exclaimed, and
there was dreadful earnestness in his manner,
which sent the hot blood of Indignation cold
and ice-like back upon my heart. ''Shoot =
you were once my friend-in mercy kill me y
A horrible suspicion flashed over my mind.
felt sudden sickness at my heart, and the pis-
tol fell from my hand.
'sWhoever you may be- l said, sand what
ever may have been your motive in attacking
me, would not stain my hands with your blood
Go and repent of your crimes"
s!You do not know me- said the robber, as
with some difficulty he regained his feet; even
only merry man can now render me-the mercy
of death-of utter humiliation ]"
Actuated by sudden and haf-defined i'm
pulse, caught hold of the strangers arm, and
hurried him towards the light of a street lamp.
1t fell full upon his CHASTITY and death-like
features, and on his attenuated form; and his
ragged APPAREL. Breathless and eagerly gazed
upon him, until he trembled beneath the scru-
tiny. pressed my hand against my brow, for
/ felt my brain whir like the coming on of de-
lirum. / could not be mistaken. The guilty
wretch before me was the friend of my youth
on whose memory had cherished as the holt
est legacy of the past. twas Henry st. Clair
Yes-it was st. Clar-but how changed since
last we had communion with each ether -
Where was the look of intelligence, and the
visible seat of ntellect-the beauty of person
and mind Q Gone-and gone forever-to give
place to the loathsomeness of depraved and
brutal appetite-to the vile tokens of a dis
gushing sensuality, and the deformity of
disease.
"Well may you shudder," said St. Clair, 81
am fit only for the companionship of demons;
but you cannot long be cursed by my presence.
| have not tasted food for many days; hunger
drove me to attempt your robbery-5ut l feel
that am dying man. No human power
can save me,and if there be "a God, even He can
not save me from myself-from the undying
horrors of remorse."
Shocked by his words, and still more by the
increasing ghastliness of his countenance,I led
the wretched man to my dwelling, and, after
him to bed, and administering cor
dial to his fevered lips. ordered physician to
be called. But was too late;-the hand of
death was upon him. He motioned me to his
bedside, after the physician had departed; he
strove to speak, but the words died upon his lips
He then drew from his bosom sealed letter
to myself. 1t was his last effort
He started half upright in his bed-uttered one
groan Of horror and mortal suffering, and sunk
back, still and CHASTITY, upon his pillow. He
was dead. "