New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1852-10-04
"TLen bow on EARTH cam you possibly know

N,
| or when it will end I only know that it will be
going on at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.
out Of the twenty one who are to suffer death
one viii be guillotined exactly at that hour.
whether he will be the first whose head falls, or
the last, cannot tell''
" And pray who may this man be, who is to
uIe exactly at nine o'clock OF course, pro-
Phe1caiiy knowing so much, you know that ~
" do know it. | am the man whose death bv
the guillotinc will take place exactly at the
hour have mentioned.
ou sad just now, Dupart, that you never
Joked DO you expect me to believe that what
you have just spoken is spoken in earnest 20
:, repeat that never joke, and 1 answer
that expect you to believe me. know the
hour at which my death will take place to-
morrow, just as certainly as l know the fact of
my own existence to-night''
'' But how My dear friend, can VOL, really
lay claim to supernatural intuition, in this
eighteenth century of the world, in this re.
nowned Age of Reason.''
No two men, Marigny, understand that
word, supernatural, exactly in the same sense
1ou and differ about its meaning or, in other
words, differ about the real distinction between
the doubtful and the true. We will not discuss
the subject: ] wish to be understood, at the out
set, as laying claim to no superior intuition
whatever but tell you at the same time. that
even IN this Age Of Reason, | have reason for
what have said. My father and brother both
died at nine o'clock in the morning, and were
both warned very strangely of their deaths. |
am the last of my family: | was warned last
night, as they were warned and | shall die by
the guillotine, as they died in their BEDS at the
fatal hour of nine.''
But, Duprat, why have l never heard of
this before! As your Oldest and | am sure.
your dearest friend, | thought you had long
since trusted me with all your secrets
And you shall know this secret; only kept
IL from you till the time when could be certain
that my death would substantiate the words to
the very letter Come you are as bad supper
company as l am-let us slip away from the
table unperceived, while our friends are all en-
gagged IN conversation. Yonder end of the hall
is dark and quiet-we can speak there uniuter-
ruptedly. for some hours to come''
lie led the way from the support table, fol-
lowed by Marigny. Arrived at one of the dark
est and most retired corners of the great hall of
the prison, Duprat spoke again:
g believe, Marigny,' he said, &c that you are
one OF those who have been ordered by our ty-
rants to witness my execution, and the execu-
ton of my brethren, as warning spectacle for
an enemy to the Jacobin cause:''
My dear, dear friend it is too true: l am
ordered to witness the butehery which l cannot
prevent. Our last awful parting will be at the
foot OF the scaffold. | an among the victims
who are spared-mercilessly spared-for little
while YETI
"S9y the martyrs We die as martyrs,
calmly, hopefully, innocently. When l am
place under the guillotine tomorrow morning,
listen, my friend, for the striking of the church.
clocks; listen for the hour while you look your
last on me. Until that time, suspend your
Judgment on the strange chapter of family his
tory which | am now about to relate''
Marigny took his friends hand, and pro-
missed compliance with the request. Duprat
then began as follows:
'' lou knew my brother Alfred, when he was
quite youth, AMI you know something of what
people hippantly termed the eccentricities This
character. He was three years my Junior
but, from childhood, he showed far less of s.
child's innate levity and happiness than his
elder brother. He was noticed for his serious
ness and thoushtfulness as boy-shoWed little
inclination for boys usual lessons, and less
still for boys usual recreations In short he
was considered by every body (my father in
cluded) as deficient in intellect-as a vacant
dreamer, an inveterate idler, whom it is hope
less to improve. Our tutor tried to lead him to
various studies, and tried in vain. 1t was the
same when the cultivation of his mind was given
up, and the cultivation of his body was next at
tempted. The fencing master could make
nothing of him and the dancing master after
the first three lessons, resigned in despair See
ing that 1t was useless to set others to teach
him, my father made a virtue of necessity, and
left him. ii he chose, to teach himself
'To the astonishment of every one, he had
not been long consigned to his own guidance,
when he was discovered in the library. reading
every old treatise on astrology which he could
lay his hands on. He had rejected all useful
knowledge for the most obsolete of obsolete sci
ences-the old, abandoned delusion of diyina-
tion by the stars! My father laughed heartily
over the strange study to which his idle son had
at last applied himself, but made no attempt to
oppose his new caprice, and sarcastically pre-
sented him with a telescope on his next birth
day. l should remind YOU here. of what Won m
may perhaps have forgotten, that my father
was a philosopher of the Voltare school, who
believed that the summit of human wisdom was
to arrive at the power of sneering at all enthu-
'iasms, and doubling of all truths Apart from
1is philosophy, he was a kind hearted, easy
nan, OF quick rather than of profound intelli-
5ence He could see nothing in my brothers
lew occupation but the evidence of new idle
less-a fresh caprice, which would lie aban-
toned in few months. My father was not the
nan to appreciate those yearnings towards the
,oetical and the spiritual which were part of
Alfreds temperament, and which gave to his
peculiar studies of the stars and their influences
certain charm. altogether unconneeted with
he more practical attractions of scientific in
eSligdllOn. |
This idle caprice of my brothers, as my
ather insisted on terming it, had lasted more
han twelvemonth, when there occurred the
rst of series of mysterious, and, as l con-
lder them, supernatural events, with all of
which Alfred was very remarkably connected
was myself witness of the strange circum-
tance which am now about to relate to YOU.
some day-my brother being then sixteen |
ears OF age-l happened to go into my fathers
tudy, during his absence, and found Alfred |
here, standing close to window which looked |
nto the garden. walked up to him, and OBJ
erved curious expression of vacancy and
igidity in his face, especially in his eyes Al
hough | knew him to be subject to what are
alled fits of absence, | still thought it rather
that he never moved, and never
loticed me when l was close to him. | took his
land. and asked if he was unwell. His flesh
vas quite cold neither my touch nor my voice
Produced the smallest sensation in him AL
most at the same moment when l noticed this,
happened to be looking accidentally towards the
garden There was my father walking along
me of the paths, and there, by his side, walk
ng with him, was another .fitred !--another,
yet exactly the same as the Alfred by whose
side was standing, and whose hand | still held
N mine
"Thoroughly panic-stricken, l dropped his
hand and uttered a cry of terror. AT the loud
sound of my voice, the statu-like presence be-
ore me Immediately began to show signs Of ami
nation | looked round again at the garden.
The figure of my brother, which l had beheld
here, was gone and [ saw to nv horror that