The Shasta courier., 1859-04-02
a Wretched End of a Mis-Spent Life.


Most of our readers will doubtless remember
a letter that we published some weeks since
written by Harlow Case, the defaulting Collector
of Sandusky, Ohio, who some years ago eloped
with the wife of q friend. The woman died ir
Europe lately, and Case wrote home letter i'm
ploring forgiveness for the wrong he had com.
mitted. A recent number of the Boston Watch
man contains letter, written by Missonar,
correspondent, describing an interview that hi
had with the guilty pair shortly before the dcatl
of the unhappy woman. 1t is painfully interest
ing, and reads as follows
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft oer Ceylon's isle,
Though every prospect pleaseS,
And only man is Yle?'
Curiously enough | was just repeating this
stanza, when my new acquaintance called fol
me. had met him while on a business visit tc
Ceylon, as countryman of mine, and was pleas
ed with the opportunity that afforded me more
ultimate personal knowledge.
thought myself fortunate in falling in with
so agreeable gentleman and considered his
face and manners peculiarly refined. On our
second meeting noticed singular restlessness
OF his handsome dark eyes, an rratable bitter
ness of the lips, and disposition to be constant
ly on the move, shown in the tapping of q light
tamboo cane, or the motion of foot or hand
These things, however, did not strike me as
singular at the time, but coupled with what |
afterwards learned, were certain evidence that
the man felt already the cravings of the worm
that never dies.
One forenoon we left the little seaport town
where was sojournng, and rode short dis
tancs into the interior of the gorgeous Island.
Most glorious were the surroundings on every
hand With prodigalty quite undreamed of
by the inhabitants of colder cline. nature had
showered her most exquisite floral gifts every
where. Trees loaded with sweet smelling flow
crs, their intense colors vieing with the foliage
of richer green, from out of which they smiled +;
tall cactus plants, with crimson, goblet shaped
blossoms; lilies, gorgeous in the queenly unfo-
ding oflorm and color-everything rich lavish,
wonderful, met our eye, feasted to fulness with
this tropical luxuriance
'' That is my house." said my new friend
pointing to a low-roofed cottage, surrounded by
q wide verandah, from whose clingng vines
sweet odors were flung upon the soft atmos-
phere--but from the moment the words were
uttered his socability departed.
Within the cottage enclosure were walks, bow
ers and fountains. Chaste statuarv was disper-
sed over the grounds with most charming effect
The house seemed almost a fairy structure ris-
ing in the midst of flowers and foliage And the
man who sat beside me, whose smile mounted
no higher than his lips-that dreamy far-looking
discomfort in his eye growing every moment
more perceptible-was the owner of this Eden
like home.
We were met on the threshold by lovely
child of some eleven summers. Her hair hung
in curs. Her eyes particularly lustrous, yet
mournful in beauty, and on the young brow
seemed to see a something's shadow of sad
ness-an unchld-like quiet, as she greeted my
new friend.
Dressed in pure white, she glided in before US
and to her was left the duty of entertaining me;
while Mr.. c., excusing himself in the remark
that sickness necessarily called him away, for a
half hour or so, left the room.
ais your mother very unwell 2' asked of the
little girl, who, with those shallow filled ewes
Of hers, was regarding me gently, but very at
tentively.
AYES, sir, mamma has been sick long time, "
replied she, dropping her eyes, while her lips
trenbled.
Did you come from america ?" she asked
timidly, after long silence.
Yes, my dear. Do you know anything OF
that country" ?" | replied, growing more and
more pleased with her expressive face.
"Only that mamma came from there, and
think, she added, hesitatingly, q that did
But Mr. c. will never let me talk about it,"
''Are you then not the little daughter of Mr..
CT l asked, somewhat astonshed.
81 am my mothers daughter" answered the
child, with a grave dignity in one so young
And minute after she arose and quietly left
the room.
sat watching her white robes fitting through
the long shady walk opposite my window, and
knew that the child brooded over some dark
sorrow, for her eyes were filled with tears
Why was it, questioned myself that painful
thought took possession of me as | sat there :?
II seemed as if were soiournng in an enchant-
ed spot, and that some horror was suddenly to
break upon me.
At my side, nearly covering beautiful table
of letter wood, were several costly gift books
tDok them up carefully, for l have reverence
tor books-and turning the fly leaf of a splen-
didly bound copy of Shakespeare, read
" 10 Mary Francis F., from her devoted
husband, Henry E. F.
thrill of surprise and anguish ran from vein
to Fein Ny thoughts seemed paralyzed The
truth had burst upon me with such suddenness,
That the blood rushed with a shock to my heart.
knew Henry E. p, had known him init
matey foryears. He was a friend towards whom.
all my sympathies had been drawn. for he had
seen such sorrow as makes the heart grow old
before its time.
His wife, whom we loved, had deserted him.
She had taken with her his only child. She had
desolated a household; and, forgetting honor.
shame. everything that pertains to virtue and 10
6ed, had fed from the country with the man
whose arts had won her wanton love-
How could | remain under this roof that now
seemed accursed How meet the DESTROYER Of
virtue-the fend who had reveled ia such a
conquest?
could only think of the evil they had done
NOT what they might suffer through the tor
lures OF remorse- 1t was some time before the
seducer came into the room where / still sat
with the child determined to meet him once
9are before | left the house.