The weekly Lancaster gazette. (Lancaster, Ohio) 1852-1855, 1853-06-09
From the Cincinnati SUM
A CINCINNATI WATCHMARS STORY.
BY THE SQUIRE.


drunk Of the well of knowledge, are as sur,
indexes Of cultivation and study as the Ere,
Mason's sign is of nitiation-that he wa,
man of education and native mental power
We had often felt an impression that som,
peculiar occurrence must have thrown hin
into a station in life which was much beneatl
what he seemed capable of filling. Thi
conviction was increased by observing hi
general manner. We never saw him smile
He is gentle in demcanor, and mild in ex
preston; but hopeless sadness is alway
imprinted upon his forehead which is pre-
maturely furrowed.
/ One night we were retiring as usual at
llatc, or, to be nearer the trutl, an early hou
from the drudgery of proof reading. Til,
night was dark as an inky sky could make it
u fine, thick drizzle, that penetrated to the
skin, was falling. Now and then the nigh
wind soughed mourniully through gloomy al
leys and deserted streets. Wetook sheltel
| in a covered spot as the harrasing drizziC
fell yet more thicky, and there we founl
the watchman we have mentioned above
who had sought Il temporary retreat from the
pitiless rain.
After some slight interchang, of common
place phrases, we happened to observe thai
such weather as then prevailed, had notonly
an unpleasant effect upon the body but wa,
greatly depressing to the mini. This evi.
IDENTIFY struck chord within him. He as.
sented with earnestness to the remark, and a
few more words led him gradually to speak
as follows:
There is something in dark, damp, dreary
nights, when the fickering and uncertain
light of the street lamps only seems to give
gloom all aspect of despair,tha always lead.
me to train of mournful reflection. Mem.
ory then is busy peopling the changing shad-
ows around me with the forms of those who
have exercised an unhappy influence on my
fate, and who have gone before me to the
grave.
When young lived in n small town in the
East, and dearly loved the daughter of a
much respected neighbor--her name was
Emma, she returned my affection and con
fessed it. The son Of another of our neigh
bors, an unscrupulous youth, also EN- ertain-
ed aflectionate sentiments for her. 1t hap
pened one day that IL family matter Of great
Importance called me away at moments
warning. The fair fame and life even, Of a
dearly loved relative was at stake. | had
to endure days of toll and nights oflabor.-
had been called away without being able
to speak to Emma, weeks passed before
could write to her. When did, mo answer
was returned!
At length, with sinking heart | stood in
my native town again. 1t was evening,
fastened to a summer-house in Emma's gar
den, where we had spent many happy even,
ings. ! had not waited long when she en-
tered. When she discovered me, and had
rapidly explained the reason of my absence.
she gave me one look of blank despair. and
sunk down in strong fainting fit With
much effort restored her to consciousness
A sad, horrd story, she told me. John had
taken advantage of my absence and silence
to awaken distrust He had shewn parts
Of letters had written TO a mutual friend
so arranged as to convince her of my ul-
faithfulness. Stung with a sense of un-
mcrited insult, she had become the wife oI
the hollow-heartcd deceiver.
uttered no word olreproach. My heart
died within me. We engaged always to
let each other know where we were living
and always to write on the occurrence OF
any important event.
| came to the west and settled in Cincn-
natl. | had been rockoncd a good business
man, but my talentw was gone. Cankerlng
care, heart oroding disappointment and in
difference to the future--aIl disqualified me
for my ordinary occupations. could re-
member nothing upon nothing
sought out an occupation, which, though
humble, required no mental effort. In pa
cling during the solitary hours of night the
empty streets as watchman, found some
thing congenial to my state of mind.
Many months passed., when letter arri-
we'd. Emma had given birth to child
Long had she watched its puny, sickIy frame
and her letter was to conlide to me her
grief. God had demanded her treasure. A :
gain, long, long months stole heavily on.
At length another letter told me the decei-
yer had behaved so cruelty to his hcart-bro-
ken victim that she had left him! This
was bitter Wretched Emma!
A long period glided on. Months bec1me
years. | suffered, but | did not write. |
knew letter would CO me when misfortune
should innict another blow. 1t was only
grief that could bring us into communion
with each other! At length letter came
that summoned me to her dying bed!
| but stayed to purchase the requisites to
appear before her in the garb Of past years.
The assumption of sort Of dress had long
laid aside vividy recalled the past, the ire
trievable past.
1t was evening when reached Emma s
dwelling. The long shadows of expiring
day were lingering on scenes so familiar
so dear-so suggestive ofreflections full OF
grief. reached the house. With tremb-
ling hands raised the mu6led knocker. A
young girl opened the door, "Arc you the
gentleman my mistress expccts?" said she.
az am" "Thcn walk up stairs, sir, she a
waits you, and said no one was to enter
with YOU" With fainting heart and trem-
bling step, assembled the stairs. enter
ed her room. She was lying in bed-hcr
cheek paler than the snowy pillow on
which it rested. Her hand--heshless and
skeleton-like, lay on the sheet. Her eyes
were dim and Geless. She breathed in
short, irregular snatches that told how far
death had progressed in his work Of destruc-
ton! And this was my gay, beautiful En-
ma! A deep sob that could not repress
made her sensible of my presence--then
came the worst trial of all.
She knew me in a moment! Her eyes
CLEANED with the brightness and expression
of past years, a smile--so sweet--stole on
her lips-Oh, God! for one brief--onc aw-
full moment--the Emma of past years look
ed upon me. You have heart that can
feel and mind that can understand, and
you can conceive my grief--the world can
not--I cannot describe It,
'William!' she exclaimed, with strength
of utterance that astonshed and appalled,
me--William! years had passed and that