Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1859-07-02

Its possession? He could not live many
years, that old man, at the most, and he
might die any minute, and his valuable
effects become the hcritanco of strangers
hat mattcrcd a few years, more or less,
to hin--a wanderingand dcspiscd oldJew?
And why should he, the POOR, miserable ar,
tist, hesitate between the Jews life and
his own? Were not all living creatures
bound by the inner law of their being to
act in sclt-dcfcncc, even to the taking of
life when necessary to sustain their own
And would he not die should the Jew live {?
and would he not live should the Jew then
and there die? And even should the Sc
crct be discovered, would it be anything
worse than deathat last? He had bought
poison for himself, and why should not an
other take it for his salvation ?--in which
event he would have the means to procure
more, and could always as now carry his
life in his hands.
The Jew had biddcn him good day, and
was trudging onward, at a slow, steady
pace, while these wild, wicked thoughts
were coursing through the brain of the
other, with all the plausibility of trU,h
Suddenly the jew stopped, produced lit
tie flask, and raised it to his lips. An!
that flask The devil Twas tempting young
Du Barre TO crime, and here was the op-
portunity.
My good friend" called the artist to
the jew, -" am very faint will YOU give
me few drops of that wine?"
" | will give you half,' said the Tsracltc
halting.
The artist advanced trcmulously, produ-
ccd the poison, and concealed it in his hand
as he approached his victim, and, under
pretcnce OF wiping the mouth of the flask,
dropped it in. Then he pretended todrink,
and handed it back with thanks, / ring
the jew to drinl; his health at their final
parting. Isaac complied, and they scpara-
ted, each going different ways
AS soon as Henri was out of sight of
the lsracitc, he entered the wood, and re-
turned in an oblique direction, until he
came in sight of his victim, who was now
writhing III the agonies of death and groan-
ing for mercy. A few minutes more and
he was stil-thc dread work was done =
Dragging the body from the road and con
ccalng it, the murderer next carried the
pack far back into the forest, tore it open,
and found indeed it did contain old clothes.
lie was nearly frantic lie had murdered
a harmless old man, and got nothing for it,
lie threw the garments from him with the
wild action of rcmosc and Spair.
Suddenly he heard clink as of money.
Then he began to examine the old rarm-
cnts, and found, to his almost mad 10Y,
that they contained immense treasures in
gold and jcwcls--damonds, sapphircs,
pearls and rubics, to the value as he
Thought, of ten thousand francs, but in re-
alty more than a hundred thousand.
Far i'll the depths of that dark wood,
the murderer hid the most precious stones.
to be brought forth in after time. There
were two thousand five hundred francs in
money; and with this amount he started
Tor home, no longer poor man, but, alas
even further than ever from being Il hap
py one.
He travelled in his ragged clothes as far
as Nlsmcs, fearful of spending one of his
ill-acquircd coins sooner; but at Nism-cs
he vcnturcd to purchasca new and gcntccl
suit, and in this, shortly after, he appeared
before Lucille, showed her father the sum
required, which he represented as having
been honestly obtained in his profession,
and claimed her hand.
In due time Henri Du Barre married
Lucille Montaignc. and happy were all at
the wedding but the guilty groom, who
was never to know happiness again. lie
kept his secret, however, and proGtcd by
it, making an occasional journey to the dis
NAL spot of his crime, under .prctcncc Of
travelling on business. lie took away and
disposed of the jewels one by one, and
gradually grew oppulcnt, and was regarded
by all who knew him as an honest man Of
mark.
But the remembrance of his crime had
a strange fascination for him, and much of
his time was spent in brooding over it in
secret
Being an artist, he at length naturally
conceived the idea of painting the scene
of the murder; and he finally drew it in
miniature, on ivory, picturng himself in
the act of dragging the dead body of the
Jew into the forest, whose features, from
memory only, he dclincated with wonder
full fidelity. And as if this were not
enough to satisfy his morbid infatuation,
he wrote underneath " Isaac aJcw, muir
dcrcd by Henri Du Barre, Artist, Scptcm-
Der the tenth, in dark wood, about TWEEN
ty leagues south from Lyons"
1t was strange, insane, idea, that, Of
preserving memory of the horrible deed
III this manner; but this miniature of the
scene he had set in a neat little frame, and
carried it in belt around his waist
But the strangcst part of this horrible
affair is yet to be told. On his last visit
to the forest, for the last jewel that yet re-
! mainrl of thn nrncnnA. nf his nm III orir,o