The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1856-04-16
N u NJ B Z R 9,

| account OF your death, as because your
life was vain one, and Its last days were
dishonored. Yes James Bourne, shame
was an inmate Of your house, sly but
constant guest. 1t sat down at your
board, pledged you in the wine cup, riot
ed on your substance when you were
away, and slept in your arms at night,
feigning The innocent sleep. You know
your friend Alfred De Camp, your dear
friend Alfred, the soul Of honor and cour-
tcsy? You will start when l tell you that
he forged that mysterious check. Nos.
Perhaps you did not hear me you dead
men are a little deaf.
"What was your age when yon mar
ried |! You decline answering. No mat
ter. Here is your biography in 'The
Wealthy Citizens You married at six-
ty; rather late in the day, sir, for young
wife. You bought your wife,. James
Bourne. You paid good round sum
for her, let me 10 you that credit; bu.
still you bought her, an unwilling bride.
1t did not occur to yoa perhaps, that six-
ty was thrice as old as twenty but it did
to your dear friend Alfred. James
Bourne, your wife was false to you!
No reply? Had any man told YOU this
week ago | would not have given much
for his lifa Now you arc unmovcd.--
All. you dead men arc indeed deaf!
Furthermore, James Bourne, Gf this
fails 10 rouse you. then nothing can ,:
there is a forged codci TO your will. DO
you hear" | whispered in his ear, ga
forged codci to your last will and testa-
ment. 1t disinherits your infant son, and
gives your false wife nine.terths of your
vast estate. 1t was done while you lay
on your death bed. Where were YOUR
eyes that you d. not see it! Silcrt still2
God iielp us. you dead men hear moth
ing!
But it is well, perhaps, that you are
ignorant: for what good could it do you
to know it in the other world? You have
other knowledge and other interests there.
Sleep on, dead man, sleep on 1t is often
for the best-nh Madame that there
is death in the family ~
At that moment, Mrs. Bourne and Mr..
DE Camp entered the library together
They were a handsome pair. The gen.
,hemsn was about thirty five, tall and
pale, with hard black eyes, sharply
chiseIel nose and chin, and model black
moustach2. Few would have taken him
for what he was, a consummate villain.
lie wore his mask admirably, for he had
| a profound knowledge Of the world, and
no heart for conscience. Mrs. Bourne was
ut least ten years younger. She was got
up as mourner in the first style Of my
| Iugubrious friend, Weed. Grief and black
Grape became her, for both were in the
latest fashion. Her great blue eyes were
droopipg and languid; her plump cheeks
Of the proper pallor, and the bands of her
golden hair as simple ne was consistent
with the reputation of a Marte!!e. / bow
ed, and left them to their thoughts.
john" said |, as reioined the book.
keeper, al cannot follow this funeral to
the grave. l have been taking to your
old friend up stairs, and he might not like
to have me go. We must be careful OF
the dead, John" SimPkins stared at me
in wonderment.
81 cannot bear hypocrisy, so must be
Oft. Some day you will know what
mean. Go with the funeral, my good
man. Pay your last respects to the dust
OF james Bourne, and say a praye, for his
souls rest The dead need prayers, John,
and the living, too, in this case. God be
merciul TO theml"
had hardly left the house before the
coffin was borne down tie steps, and de-
posted in the hearse, after it came Mrs.
Bourne and her little son, who were help
ed in. the coach by cousin Alfred, and az
ter thtm the members of the family aud
trends. In a few minutes the hearse and
the line OF carriages began to move. The
proud horses tossed their heads, and their
oStricn piumes waved like sheSves, the
! harvest Of Death. Down the grand ave.
nue., now in shadow aRarnow ia Sunshine,
past the stately silent houses, the beauti-
tul green trees, the crowd Of gazers, on the
walk, on and on rolled the funeral coach
es.
"Move on" said ], I'VE emblems OF
IsoaaIity, move oni Ye are always creep
ing in the world somewhere, We black Ice.
ties of Death, bearing men, omen and
children to their long homes. ] see your
innpmerahle train stealing along TO the
graveyard Graves are being dug and
hiled everywhere. and the bitter death
tears are she'd. Morning, noon and night,
the. shadow, Death, hangs above MS, and
the invisible arrows fly, darkening the
sun and moon. What millions and mil
lions arc faIlingl Only God can see It,
and not go madp
Here the funeral turned into Broadway,
and was swallowed up in the sea Of om-
nibuses, and went home to write fun
ny article for The Hiustyated Comic
1ack-Rnite." ] had solennly promised
to have three mortal colamns ready by
tho next morning; so there was notlipg
to do but to write them. rackcd my
brain and scrubbed away ill midnight,
merrily enough as tl:ought; but when
read the Mss. over, as did next morning,
found had written an obituary. IL
q was entitled I" A De lTu IN THE Fl,,,is, y