New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1852-10-05

iOfci anu over again ne checked DlfnSeI very
strangely when on the point of speaking to me
about my brother. saw that there was some
secret pressing heavily ON his mind, which he
was afraid to disclose. to me. 1t was useless to
ask for his confidence. His temper had beeome
irritable under disaster-perhaps, also, under
the dread uncertainties which were evidently
tormeDting him in secret. My situation was
very bad one, and very dreary one, at that
time. had no remembrances of the past that
were not mournful and affrighting remem-
brances; had no hopes for the future that were
not darkened by vague presentment Of troubles
and perlis to come; and was expressly orbid-
den by my father to say word about the ter
rible events which had cast an unnatural gloom
over my youthful career, to any of the friends
yourself includedD whose counsel and whose
sympathy might have guided and sustained me
in the day of trial.
'fWe returned to Paris, sold our house there,
and retired to live on the small estate to which
/ have referred as the last possession left u.s.
We had not been many days in our new abode,
when my father imprudently exposed himself to
heavy shower Of rain and suffered, in conse-
quence, from q violent attack Of cold. This
temporary malady was not dreaded by the medi-
cal attendant; but it was soon aggravated by q
fever, produced as much by the anxiety and dis
tress Of mind from which he continued to suffer.
as by any other cause Still the doctor gave
hope; but yet lie grew daily worse-so much
worse, that ] removed my bed into his room, and
never quilted him night or day.
Gone night had fallen asleep, overpowered
by fatigue and anxiety, when I was awakened
by cry from my father. I instantly trimmed
the light, and ran to his side He was sitting
up in bed, with his eyes fixed on the door, which
had been left ajar to ventilate the room. saw
nothing in that direction, and asked him what
was the matter. He murmured some express
sons of affection towards me, and begged me to
sit by his side till morning, but gave no definite
answer to my question. Once or twice thought
he wandered little; and / observed that he
occasionally moved his hand under the pillow,
as if in search for something there. However,
when morning came, he appeared quite calm
and selfspossessed. The doctor arrived, and pro-
nouncing him to be better, retired to the dress
ing room to write prescription. The moment
his back was turned, my father laid his weak
hand on my arm, and whispered family Last
night saw the supernatural light again-the
second prediction-true, true-my death this
time-the same hour as Alfred's-nine o'clock
this morning. He paused moment through
weakness, and then added Take that sealed
paper-under the pillow when am dead, read
it. Now go into the dressing -room-my watch
is there: have heard the church clock strike
eight; let me see how long it is now till nine.
Go-go quickly
ssHorror- stricken, moving and acting like a
man in trance, / silently obeyed him The
doctor was still in the dressing room; my de-
| spair made me catch eagerly at any chance of
saving my father. l told his medical atten-
dant what had just heard, and entreated ad-
| vice and assistance without delay.
sss He's little delirious, said the doctor
don't be alarmed; we can cheat him out Of
his dangerous idea, and so, perhaps, save his
life. Where is the watch?' Il produced it,
See: it is ten minutes to nine | will put bach
the hands one hour; that will give good time
for a composing draught to operate. There
take him the watch. and let him see the time
with his own eyes. He will be comfortably
asleep before the hour hand gets round again BY
nine.
| 81 went back with the watch to my father
bed-sid TOO Slow, he murmnred, as h
Il looked at the dial too slow by an hour-th
church clock-I counted eight
Il sssFather! dear father! you are mistaken,
} cried. counted also !; it was only seven.
sss Only seven,' he echoed, family; anothe
? hour then-another hour to live!' He eviden'
ly believed what had said to him. In spite
the fatal experiences Of the past, lnow venture
to hope the best from our stratagem, as l rt
sumed my place by his side.
; 1.-The doctor came in, but my father neVe
noticed him. He kept his eyes fixed on tn
watch, whichlay between us on the coverlid
When the minute hand was within o few Sc
conds of indicating the false hour of eight, h
looked round at me, murmured very feebly an
/ doubtingly sanother hour to liver and the
: gently closed his eyes. l looked at the watch
and saw that it was just eight o'clock, accord
ing to our alteration of the right time AT th
same moment. heard the doctor, whose han
had been on my fathers pulse, exelaim-s M
God it's stopped He has died at nine oclock
ssThe fatality, which no human stratagem
human science could turn aside, was accon
T; plished l was alone in the world
e elm the solitude of our little cottage, on tt
s day of my fathers burial, opened the seal,
r letter which he had told me to take from IL
: pillow of his death-bed In preparing to res
= it, knew that was preparing for the know
: nor wept. l was beyond all grief; despair sue
as mine was then, is calm and self-possessed
: the last.
''The letter ran thus: After your fathe
and your brother have fallen under the fatalit
; that pursues our house, it is right, my des
, son, that you should be warned how you al
: included in the last of the predictions whic
e still remains unaccomphshed Know, thel
e that the final lines read by our dear Alfred c
the scroll prophesied that you should die, as u
e have died, at the fatal hour of nine, but by
: bloody and violent death, 1.-THE day of which WI
g not foretold. My beloved boy! you know no
e you never will know, what suffered in the po
a session of this terrible secret, as the truth
d the former prophecies forced itself more al
II more plainly on my mind! Even now, as
e write, hope against all hope-believe vain
and desperately against all experience, that til
5, last, worst doom, may be avoided. Be cautio
IS be patient look we'll before you at each st
e of your career. The fatality by which you a
IS threatened is terrible; but there is a pow
q above fatality, and before that power my spi
e and my childs spirit now pray for you. R
l. member this when your heart is heavy, a
d your path through life grows dark. Rememt
!, that the better world is still before you-t
ID world where VIC shall meet! Farewell
1T "When / first read those lines, | read the
with the gloomy, immoveable resignation OF
or Eastern fatalists, and that resignation ney
lie left me afterwards Here in this prison, fl
y it, calm as ever Ibowed patiently to my doc
* when it was only predicted bow to it as P
le tiently now, when it is on the eve OF accompis
at ment. You have often wondered, my friend,
lie the tranquil, equable sadness OF my manne
G !; after what have just told you, can you wond
he any longer'
ey & But let me return for a moment to the pa
he Though had no hope Of escaping the fatal
he which had oyertaken my father and my broth'
he nv life, after my double bereavement, was
ad existence of all others which might seem MI
he likely to evade the accomplishment of my pl
n dicted DOOM Yourself and one other frle
an excepted, saw no society my walks were Ii
ID tied to the cottage garden and the neighbour
fields; and my every day, unvarying occur
he ton. was confined to that hard and resolr