The daily exchange. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1858-1861, 1859-08-09
A STRANGE RETRIRnTInN

France. Lucille Montaigne had beauty and money
and Henri Du Bars had wit and talent; but these
latter We're no fair equivalent for the former in the
eyes OF the purse-proud father who declared that
no daughter ofhis should marry poor man, though
ne We're blessed with the wisdom of a Solomon.
Now Lucille loved Heri-at least she told him So
put out she n! was too prudent to elopc with him and
flsk disinheritance; for after all what was love
| without money ?-poverty, coming in at the door
would send it flying through the window
f0or Henri was in despair. He really did love
Lucille, whether she did him or not-loved her
madly and his was one of those dark fiery natures
WnIch makes love a wild, terrible passion How
! much money was necessary to make him her equal
IN the eyes of her worldly father? The aubergiste
named &c, lhe sum. 1t was large, and Henri sighed
! and felt more despair at his heart than ever 7Sud
aenly ne frightened up with the recollection that
| ne had youth and genius and that in some large
cty, rarls, perhaps where the latter would be ap-
preclated, he might acquire both fortune and fame
But would Lucille wait ?Well, Lucille was WILLING
to wait awhile-for Just then, as she admitted to
herself, she could think of no one she liked better
.han the poor artist; but everything earthly must
nave limit, and the fair coquette thought her
patience ought not to extend beyond year.
year Is very short time for a man to acauire
iame and fortune, with the latter depending on the
loriner; pqt Henri was young, and youth is san
gulne, and at all events he would make trial hon
ing great things and knowing he could do no worse
tnan fall SO he finished his engagements hur-
rledly, declined any ones, sold few pictures
On nano, Ior moderate sum, gathered together his
/
and, with hopeful but heavy heart set off for the
great metropolis of France
IL was a long, long journey from Circassone to
rarls, IN the slow conveyauces of the period when
henrl Du Barre made it, and it was nearly two
weeks before he reached the CAV capital And then
began his struggles with poverty; which clung
10 MN In spite OF his hopes, his exertions and his
prayers, for six weary months when he gave nm
IN despair and secretly left the city to beo his
way back to Circassone, see his Lucille once
more, bid her an eternal adieu, and end life no
longer of any value to its possessor.
Henri Du Barre set out from Paris afoot and
aIone depending solely upon the charity of French
peasants for food and lodging. He had six sous in
hls pocket when he started and these he invested
In deadly poison, which he carried as a dernier
resort, determined not to suffer beyond what
nature might reasonably bear but which if
was his hope to retain till he had again seen
Lucille
In this manner he reached and passed through
Lyons, foot sore, ragged and disheartened-an OBJ
lect indeed for commiseraton. Twenty leagues
beyond Lyons, in passing through long, dark
loneiy WOOD, he met jew, carry ing a heavy pack
On MS pack. The poor artist asked the Israe te
for charity; his appeal was answered with few
COINS for which he thanked the giver and then Of
tered to carry his pack.
"oh no-it is nothing-it is nothing-a few old
clothes only? returned the Jew, hurriedly-so
hurriedly, and with such evident uneasness in
TACT, as to awaken suspicion in the mind of the
young artist that it contained something CT great
value.
to possess it first took possession of the man who
was now going home to die wretchedly, but whom
two thousand francs might yet bless with life and
happiness. When the mind of takes highly
criminal bent 1t seems as if some evil demon whis-
pers in his the most plausible reason for a
wicked course to happiness.
Henri Du Barre, who had never before thought
oI narmng a human being, now glanced turtively
anu almost shudderingly around him. with the dark
and wicked thought in his BRAIN that if this old |
man were dead and he the professor of his pack he
might yet have bright and glorious future 1t
was dreary, DISMAL spot in the thick wood where
they both stood, and no human eyes save theirs |
was looking upon the scene. Why should this old |
man be numbered with wealth, which could not |
bring him one tithe of the ioy that it might him
who coveted its possessions? He could not live many
years, that old man, at the most and he might die
any minute, and his valuable effects become the in
heritance of strangersl
what mattered a few years, more or less, to him |
"a wandering and despsed old Jew? And why |
should he, the poor miserable artist, hesitate he
tween the Jews life and his own? Were not all |
living creatures bound by the inner law of their |
being to act in sefdefence even to the taking of |
life when necessary to sustain their OWN And |
would he not die should the Jew live and would |
ne not live should the Jew then and there die p
And even should the secret be discovered would it
be anything worse than death at last? He had |
brought poison for himself and wby should NOT
another take it for his salvation Pin which event
he would have the means to procure more, and !
could always as now carry his life in his hands !
The Jew had hidden him good day, and was
trn9ging onward at slow, steady pace, while these
wild, wicked thoughts were coursing through the |
brain OF the latter, with all the plausbty of
truth
Suddenly the Jew stopped, produced little flask.
ana raised 1t to his lips. All! that flask! The devil
was tempting young Du Barre to crime. and here |
was the opportunity.
''My good friend" called the artist to the lew.
~ am very faint; will you give me few drops of
that wne?" ~
81 will give you half" said the Israelite halt
ing ~
The artist advanced TREMENDOUSLY, produced the
poison and concealed it in his hand as he approach
ed his victim, and, under pretense of wipinu tbe |
mouth OF the flask, dropped it in. Then he pretend
ed to drink, and handed it back with thanks. beC-
gng the jew to drink his health at their final mart
ing different ways.
As soon as Henri was out of sight of the Israel
lite, he entered the wood, and returned in an OBJ
hque direction, until he came in sight of his victim
who was now writhing in the agonies of death and
groanlng for mercy. few minutes more and he
was still-the dread work was done
Dragging the body from the road and concealing
IT. tne murderer next carried the pack far back into
he forest tore 1t open, and found it did indeed CON
tam old clothes. lie was nearly frantic He had
murdered harmless old man, and got nothing for
it, He threw the garments from him with the wild
action of remorse and despair
Suddenly he heard clink as of money Then
he began to examine the old garments and found
to his almost mad joy, that they contained immense
treasures in gold and jewcls-diamonds sapphires
pearls and rubies to the value, as he thought, of
hundred thousand
Far in the depths of that dark wood. the mur
derer hid the most precious stones to be brought
iorth IN after time. There were two thousand five
hunureu iranfs In money; and with this amount
he started for home, no longer poor man, but
alas even further than from being happy
one. f'
He travelled in his ragged clothes as far as MIS-
nj L. .Il |
coins sooner; but at Nismes he ventured to mr.
chase new and genteel suit and in this shortly af
ter 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 Henry Du Barre married Lucille
Montaigne, and happy were all at the wedding
but the guilty groom, who was never to know |
happiness again. He kept his secret, however,
and prohted by it, making an occasional Journey
to the dismal spot of his crime, under pretence of
travelling on business. He took away and disposed
OF the jewels one by one, and gradually grew opu-
lent and was regarded by all who knew him as an
honest man of mark.
= But the remembrance of his crime had strange
for him, and much of his time was
spent In brood1ng over it in secret.
Being an artist, he at length naturally conceived
the idea OF painting the of the murder; and he
hnally drew 1t in miniature, on ivory, picturing
himself In the act OF dragging the dead body of the
Jew into the forest, whose features, from memory
only, he delineat9d with wonderful fidelity And
as If this were not enough to satisfy his morbid in
he wrote underneath: "Isaac, a Jew
murdered by Henri Du Barre, Artist September |
the tenth, in a dark wood about twenty LEAGUES
south from Lyons"
1t was strange, insane idea, that of PRESERVING
memory of the horrible deed in this manner: bnt
this miniature of the he had set in neat lit
lie frame, and carried it in belt around his waist
But the strangest part of this horrible affair is
yet to be told On his last visit to the forest for
he last jewel that yet remained of the proceeds of
lis awful crime, he shot dead bv q highway :
nan, who, on searching his person, found the min
ature, and recognized in the features of the ,nur :
Tered Jew his own father. !
This produced so strange an Impression upon the
econd murderer, that he carried it to the authori
les and made full confession of his own crime A /
ull and thorough Investigation took place, and Z
lmong the papers of Du Barre, was found one con-
aiming the statement of the whole transaction as
sc have here recorded it.
The second murderer, the son of the Jew was
ubsequently executed, and so ended the chain of .
lark and bloody events
Truly, the WAYS of Providence are wonderfuland
ny ysterious.
COMPARATIVE EXTENT OF TERRIroRY-When we 5
cad of the wealth and power of England it is not
asy to conceive that her territory G. the terri
ory of England properis less than that of several
# our individual States; and that the area uf the
United Kingdom, including England, Scotland |
md Ireland, is less than half the area ofTexas and
ess than that of California. The following figures
will show these things to be true:
- ~ square miles Square miles. |
JNIIED ABINGDON TeNas..........,.....237,5 ,594
England 600 n 1Es'ooo |