Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1852-09-30
The Forger..A Sketch from Life.
BY FINLEY JOHNSON.

j. N.-. Dl Il4NIl1l l1OilANHyNN'
= I'll e old clock from the ivy covered
6owe1 had pealed forth the hour of
midnight, and as tn Z lingering echoes
died away among the distant hills
they left train Of shddened thoughts
upon the mind. All was still-na-
ture was hushed in calh repose, and
the spirit OF slam Der had wrapped
the earth in its pea acefl ar ms. But
suddenly the silence Was disturbed
by the gathering Of horses hoofs
upon the road, and theIIe might have
been seen in that dark and solemn
hour, a horseman ri ling at full speed
as if anxious to red {ch his point Of
destination. The Stranger was in
appearance a young m{n, but evi-
IDENTIFY way-Torn. While bis dress be
spoke the haste in Fhidl he had set
out upon his journey. A large
horseman's cloak was thrown over
bis shoulders, aud as he impatiently
urged his weary stebd, a II ppttering
oath would occasionally buF Fst from
his lips.
At length arriving at bis desired
point he stopped, a nd removed the
cumbrous cloak, rolling it up and
throwing it over a hedge, seized hold
upon a branch of tree, and raising
himself descended upon the opposite
side. With slow and stealthy steps
he wended his way through the gar
den, and then paused beneath win
dow which looked upon the lawn.
His frame trembled with suppressed
emotion as he gazed upwards.
| Within room cleaned a pale,
Esickly light, made still more ghastly
/ by the mponbeams without; besides
this, there was no sign to show the
Stranger that it was inhabited by
living mo qrtals. The house itself
bore upon it the marks of negligence
and decay; the garden still bore the
marks Of fori iner attention, but now
the paths are filed with weeds, and
as the faint ii I5ht Of the waning moon
shone updn the scene it gave a
gloomy ASPECT to the rui hs. The
stranger stood with folded rms and
gazed upon the scene, wrapped in
deep medita tation. Thoughts of by
gone years with all their happy hours,
came rushi ng in upon his soul, and
agitated his breast with conflicting
emotions. Turning his eyes full
upon the ight which cleaned through
the window, he stood for moment
absorbedin thought, then an agonlz-
ing sigh Would escape from his bo-
som, and Staggering like drunken
man he SUI blk upon a bench near by,
and Shading g his eyes as if TO shut
ont some fearful vision, he Wept and
sobbed as only mqR may weep and
sob. Painful indeed must have been
tile though It's which caused tile bitter
tears to flo w from the fountain of bis
soul. HI
Come with me, now, gentle reader,
and let your footsteps fall lightly as
we enter the chamber from which
that pale light shone. Tread softly,
and let your whispers be low, for it
| is the chamber of sickness, soon to
be the chamber of death. 1t is a
chamber with all the comforts and
conveniences Of life-but what are
they in dying hour? On one side
of the room was a bed, whose cur
tains half drawn, revealed the form
/ of an invalid He was a man evi-
IDENTIFY in the decline Of life, yet sor-
row and care had traced upon his
brow more burrows than the hand Of
time. Occasionally he dozed for a
few moments, and then would turn
res tlessly upon the bed, while at the
sam e time low inauaible SO ound
would escape fl iom his lips. As there
he lay uponhiY last couch, soon to
have the cold, cold earth for his bed,
hethought that hewas alone, alone in
his misery.
But there was one who, unnotFed'
entered the room, and stood BY, the
bedside hidden by the curtains, who
watched the dying man with an al
most reaking heart Gould the
sick man but hav seen t1e cou hle-
nance Of the intr nder, he Would nave
witnessed tears Of mental anguish
rolling down hi 5 cheeks and he
colnnlunes With himself ahh his G GodI
The broken words which Agony had
wrimg from his heart, bespoke some