Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1851-07-17

| of unsmoked paint The crane hung
sadly in the chimney corner, but the music
of the singing kettle was not there. The
stranger raised his hand to his eyes, but
what causes him to start with affright9
"H is Jlooly again." he exclaimed
and his features were rigid with borrow
"Oh, that could wipe that loul-that
terrible stain from my memory! Ha! ii
is on my hand as fresh as when | muir.
dered that poor, melancholy stranger
God of Heaven. cannot wipe it OUT
He had cut his hand with a broken
piece Of glass, and clot of fresh blood
was upon it in reality. He felt not the
pain of the wound in his horror; and
satisfied that heaven had marked him in
its own terrible way, he wiped OF the
blood and turned to depart.
He had taken but few steps from the
door of the f,rm house, when a heavy
hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the
Sheriff stood beside him. Hc was arrest
ed for an attempt to murder, and was
soon on his way with the officers of JUS
tice to London The prison received its
victin'-and the gay world smiled as
brightly as before.
The day of trial came. John Brown,
who had taken another name, was tried
as Samuel Cones, and the case brought
together a vast concourse of people of
both sexes. The prisoner was placed at
the bar. The jury was duly empannel
ed.-The advocate for the crown was be.
side him; the judge was upon the bench.
Brown, rs he entered the dock, had
been agitated by the dread reality Of his
guilt, and the prospect of speedy punish
ment, that he had not cast his eye on the
Judge He now looked cautiously at him.
He saw the keen eye of the Judge upon
him, and he started with horror.
"Oh, God" said he, with a loud voice,
while the sweat rolled down his chalk
like face. "It is the murdered man. Ha!
he has come to judge the guilty! See
there His forehead is Scared All it
was devilish blow! Back back, l say !;
let the dead man look his fill. There's
blood upon my hand; see there, thou ua-
quiet spirit; that hand was reeking in
thy gore; twas merciless when thou
cried out: be merciless now in thy turn,
thou man of the spirit landp'
Here the prisoner tainted and fell upon
| the. .fooE. greatlensationsWasnarsed
in court by this singular circumstance,
and it was not until order had been shout
ed for some time that the trial was suffered
to go on. 1t appears that Browns neigh
boris all considered him guilty Of the
crime of endeavoriug to murder the indi-
vidual named in the beginning Of this
tale. and who was the presiding judge of
the Old Bailey. The affidavit was kept
in green remembrance, especially by one
old farmer in the neighborhood Of Hope
dale, who had appropriated Browns farm
to his own use, and who constantly
watched the murderer's return, for he
knew human nature so well as to be Ger.
tain that no wretch can be so callous as to
forget tue spot sacred to childhood, inno-
cencc and early love. The robbcr seeks
his home, the murderer seeks his once
happy valley, while the seducer wandcrs
amid the bowers where passion, like a
kark and damning torrent, burst away the
barriers between his soul and hell. The
unfortunate man, ignorant Of his wife's
actions, and unconscious of the certificate
in her possession, ignorant of her exis-
tcnce, even after a long cruise in the na-
Wy Of England, returned to view the plea
SAINT honlestcad-the green valley-the
quiet hillside, and the sunken graves OF
his parents and children. He had met
the argus-eyed spcculator on his wII.-
The old affidavit hung like the sword OF
Damocles over his head, and the informer
at sunset saw the poor broken hearted
sailor borne away to London, and he
trusted to a felon's grave. Man careless
ly feeds upon the Gnu, chyard wall, and
gather roses from the sacred plains
ssWhere once the life's blood, warm and wet.
Had dimmed the glit,ering bayones"
The trial proceeded-the evidence was
strong, and .heiury, without quitting their
seats, pronounced the prisoner at the bar
"guilty."
"Guilty7" said Brown, rising to his
feet, "can it bes All | must die a fel'
on's death-and my poor wife. Oh
that pang! How her tender cndearments
rise up in Judgment against me; her self
words, how they thunder upon my soul
Her smiles of beauty and innocence
great God how they scar my hear
must l then die without forgive
ness? Oh, the thought is torture, ay
torture rs dreadful as that experienced by
the vilest of the damned p
Here the prisoner became unnamed
and burrying his face in his fetteredhand
wept like child. The strong passion O
grief shook the prisoners limbs, and rat
tied the chains with terrible distnctncss
A short silence ensued, and then thu
judge put on his black cap, and prepared
to pronounce that awful sentence whicl
never can be pronounced without the shak
Of the dormant sensibiities Of the mos
degraded-which none, in fact, but tn
condemned, ever hear without flood o
tears
"Prisoner at the bar" said tho Judge