The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1854-09-28
SELECT TALE.
From Gleason's Pictorial.
THE TRAITORS END.
BY MRS. L. wELLMoNT.

BILE storm swept over the city OF London
II was the hour Of midnight when tin
blast was beating most piteously, that al
aged clergyman was aroused bv pier
cling cry for help. He rose, threw aside
his curtain, and beheld the form of a rude
man, who appeared as common stree
sweeper. The rain poured in torrents
but the imploring accents OF the call in
duced the preacher TO take the arm o.
his guide; and threading his way through
narrow streets, and rude thoroughares
he arrived at a rude dwelling wherein
lay dying man.
A strange tale was this. g That very
day stranger, advanced in life, had
fallen speechless at the scavenger's door.
The kind hearted scavengpr had lifted
him from the pavement. opened for him
his bed, warmed his feet, administered a
cordial TO his lips-and now he was dy.
ing.
The apartment was indeed dreary
one. Up long flight Of ricketty stairs,
inside door half hingeIess on narrow
pallet Of straw, lay this same stranger
'Fhe lamp burnt dimly on broken chair;
few fading embers were on yonder
earth; teapot without handle stood up.
on 1t. The rain was beating in the win.
dow, and in sundry panes were stuffed
coarse pieces Of clothing. A vaise
stood by the bedside-it was the only
property which the stranger brought with
him. The man was only half dressed
his coat was thrown aside, his neck was
loosely encased within low shirt collar.
but upon his legs there were a pair OF
huge military boots!
That fact! There was an expression
which once looked upon. would haunt
your memory forever! That forehead,
bold and manly; hair slightly changed by
age; lips compressed, but yet moving as
if life was 10th TO quit its hold, and large,
rolling eyes that beamed with an unearlh.
ly glare.
What spectacle! Those armes are
brandished in the air; that fist seems
clenching sword, or holding a rifle;
damp cold sweat starts from that hand,
and wildly does he loss himself from side
to side on his uneasy couch. Throb and
beat, throb and beat, alternately, went
that poor mans hearl--for he was dying.
The clergyman took hold OF that clench.
ed hand, and gently bending his head,
he inquired, MY friend hast thou Chris
tian faith!'
'Christian!' he echoed, in loud voice
Tor the first time, and then in deep tone,
which made the preacher tremble, 'Will !
Christianity give me back my honor!-
Go with me over the blue waters Lis
ten! We have arrived. There is my
native village, there is the green door.
yard in which my boyhood played, there
is the roof OF my parental mansion, there
is the graveyard--but where is the flag
that used to wavel Another ensign is
floating, infamy is heard in the mouths of
parents are taught TO loathe my
memory. o, my God, The sting of re.
morse is throbbing in these very temples;
judgments are impreoated, dark demons;
a tarnished name; flag of dishonor, and
The curse of unborn infants, even now
ring through my SOUL
The minister had watched beside many
impenitent sinners, many rebels, whose
hands were stained with blood, but never
had he been called 10 such death bed.
Suddenly the. man arose, With
mighty energy he paced that creaking
floor. II the storm was without, so was
It within IN most terrific form. Those
white bony fingers laid hold Of the valise,
which stood by the bedside, and drew
from thence a faded military coat lined
with silver, and an old parchment, in
piece of damp cloth, that looked like the
wreck OF a batle.Aag,
Look, said the stranger, This coat is
spotted with blood, '--bygone days seem.
ed TO rise before him--'this coat covered
me when | heard of the battle of Lex.
ngton, when planted the banner of
stars on liconderoga; that bulIet.hole
was driven through at the siege of Que
Dec--and now look at me! I--am-let
ne whisper softly yonr ear--hal they
will hear One burning word was said
-only one. Now help me- continued
Ne, ito put on this coat, for have no
wife, no child 10 wipe the cold sweat from
my brow. must die alone; let me die
as on the battle field, without a fear
And while he sat arrayed in that tar.
nished coat the preacher spake to him
comforting words oI faith in Christ, Of
nope for dying penitents, OF mercy plea
ling with justice, Of that faith which lifts
1ff the frown. and shows US a compass.
sionate Redeemer.
Faith again re-echoed the dying
nan, 'faith!'--the death chill was on his
'rame-death light, too, was in his eye
List! Is there not George Washington
over the blue waters relating pleasant
stories OF his siegesl Isthere not George
oi ENGLAND waiIing over lost coloniesl--
And here am 1.-the first that struck
he note of freedom, the first that gave
he blow to that king--here am |, dying
ike dog, bowling over treachery, lost
IN pangs of remorse.'
The preacher stepped back awe-struck.
Who was before him! Again the heart
hrobbed, the dealh.watch was heard in
he wall, the death.rattle seemed hardly
in the throat.
Silence along the lines thereP mur.
nured the dying stranger: 'not whis-
Der; not one, for the peril of YOUR lives