Delaware weekly Republican. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1841-188?, 1857-10-22


Horace Flintwood sat alone in his scantiIy
furnished apartment, Outside the rneagre
windows the rough storm beat elamorously fol
admittance, and the wind, whistleing and
| moaning down the great black-throated chin.
! ney, made bright, waving phantoms af the rod
There was but little fire--yet that little
lighted up the handsome face OF young Flint
wood with pale, ghostly gleam. Aad in thai
face, by the light, you could read the 1earfu
tale of utter poverty, and near starvationi-
There was hunger in the wild expression of the
hollow eyes, and upon the broad, white fore
hend, where the transparent skin failed to con
deal the delicate vein -tracery wrought there,
Two years before, Horace klintwood had
left his pleasant home in country section oil
Massachusetts, and his aged parents, to seek
bis fortune in the great city of the West,
c.; where we find him at the commence
ment of our story.
The old homestead, the blessed old place
where his childhood had been passed, was
mortgaged, and it was to obtain money to save
the home of his parents from stranger hands,
that Young Flintwood had bid farewell to those
he loved and joined the great stream OF western
emigration. His trade-that of a bricklayer--at
first procured him ready money in fattering
quantities; but as people were upsatisfied with
settling SO far east as q. =, the young me-
chanic coon found himself deprived Of en-
ployment.
lie would have followed the current on
even TO the shore OF the Pacific, but an attack
OF fever brought him to his bed, and he, at
length, arose, to find himself deprived of every
dollar which he could once call his own. On
the very verge OF starvation He thought of
begging his way back to his parents, but his
pride revolted. They were poor, and looked
to him for the restoration OF their dissipated
fortune Should they see him come back to
them penniless aud starving b No, not even
il he died in that great city alone, and for the
want of bread He could not go back to them
only to increase their cares, and be but an ad-
ditional burden upon their scanty means.
Horace Flintwood was thinking OF all this,
while sitting there by the waning fire that
chill November night, and as he thought, des-
pair crept into his heart. Out on the muttied
air doomed, shrill and clear, the bell upon a
neighborlng tower pealing eleven.
As the last echoing ring ceased, there came
a short, quick rap ut Horaee's door. He an
swered the summons, and a figure, closely
wrapped in black cloak, strobe into this room
and without word sat down on the chair
which Horace had vacated.
"a wild evening, friend,' Horacs4remurked,
to break the awkward silence.
Very. Are you engaged for this EVENING"
The strangers tones were quick aud impera-
tive.
Engaged p Horace started at the question,
certainly not at this time of night
Are You in want otmoney2' The unknown
bent glance of piercing inquiry upon Horace,
from pair of black, flashing eyes, set far back
under clti-like brows.
Sir, am not accustomed TO answer qles-
tions concerning my private aiiairs.' Horace
drew himself up proudly, and something like
a frown passed over his pale brow.
require job of work done--done by a
good. faithful haud-a discreet workman. 1
mean, and sucn yourreputation among those
who best know you
Horace bowed. fr
6 il is a small job, but 1 wish it finished to-
night-to-nightp repeating the words with
Startling emphasis, and you must do it .
Well, sir, work would be very acceptable
to me-f need the money bad enough, but
midnight is rather a singular time to call upon
the services of bricklayer.' l-4s
GTanted-bnt l ask it, nevertheless-and
still farther; you must be blindfolded, and
conveyed to the place where you are to labor
in close carriage, andreturn to your iodgi ngs
in the same way. Moreover, you must swear
never to reveal single thing which may oc-
cur TO you this night, to any living creaturel'
The unknown had arisen to his feet and
stoed silently and haughtily awaiting Horace's
reply. z...s,..-s a
The young brcklayer seemed much struck
by the mysterious proposition OF his strange
visitor.
'Cculd but know that there was nothing
criminal, nothing -.-.7N
II is enough that you have nothing to dc
but follow my directions. ALI will be well
with you and the pay shall be yours in ad-
vance, If you require it," He flung down
purse, well hlled with gold, upon the table,
Horace's eyes glistened, but he was silent.
There are one hundred dollaTs--they are
yours, ii you consent y t'-7N
One hundred dollarsI impossible 1 can
not acceptAit looks too much like a br ibe
for committing some horid crime-some----'
Hush my friend, | know your circumstan-
ces, and your services to night VIII fully COM
pensate me for the trifiing sum. Do you con-
sent2
Horace threw on his well-worn oyercoat. and