Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1861-12-22

turning home with bis tempteT, halt frantic win
disappointment and rcmorse, when he touno
himself in the hands of the officers OF the ls"'
When I saw he made no resistance put rahel
admitted the charge, my conscience smote me aS
being the first cause of his crime in countenan-
cinr and carrying those unfortunate love-letteTs,
and determined to save him if l could. WIZ
this idea. / vent TO Mr.. Grant, and told him an
I could not have done a worse thing; his anger
5oubIad when he heard a clerk had dared TO love
the lady ,Jelidean; he resolved on proceeding
against him more vigorously than before. peg
ped a davis holiday, and went all the way 10
Lady Jelidean; at her fine house, and entrssteo
her to intercede for Allen heriden.
She did, poor young lady-she aid all sne couid,
but in vain. Fer father was memorable the
evidence was perfect Allen was tried, convicted
and Transported for seven years. Ousley, the
promoter and iustgator Of the crime, was ac-
quilted.
Afer that, I could no longer bear the old house,
at every corner Of which something reminded me
of this unfortunate young man. l had saved
some money, and l resolved to return to Chase
wood, and take this inn, which was then unoc-
cupied.
You may be sure, sir, when l first came, every
one wanted to know all / could tell of poor Mas
ter Allen, as they still called him, while was
equally anxious TO know how his father bore his
nav n AAN1AhAAMAANs ~ GNNALa ~
iden heard of his sons arrest, he was very indig-
nant, and set himself to save him if possible, by
procuring the best counsel but when he read
the evidence, and saw how clear his guilt was,
the verv nature Of the stern old man seemed to
rise against, and sit in Judgment on, his son.
SO much so, that when Lord Chasewood offered
his influence to procure at least a mitigation OF
the sentence, Mr.. MeTiden replied, mo, my lord,
he has committed the crime; let justice take its
course" On, it was awful to see that old eler-
gyman's face so stern and hard, as if his heart
were marble in its unyielding severity. l used
to look or him on a Sunday, when he read the
prayer that pity might be shown to all prisoners
and %captives. His voice never faltered; there
was no pity in his face. He might have forgot
ten the verv existence Of his son, for his name
never passed his lips.
1t was one Of the hot days of harvesting, last
autumn. when all the men and maids had gone
to help in the fields, that a poor emaciated crea-
mre tottered into the kitchen, where my wife
and l we're seated, and feebly asked for a drink
of water. My wife drew him a glass OF ale,
telling him to sit down and rest, tor he looked
more st to lie down in bed and die than to be
walking the high-rosd that broiing day. tie
sat down and thanked her, drinking the ale
slowly as though he cared not for it, and, look
ing very hard at me, he asked
" Is your name William Peters ~
at is so, but l can't say that l remember
yours
(" He answered with a heavy hopeless sigh
{" L am Allen Meriden, and have come here to
die"
When 1 looked at the poor, wretched man,
and remembered the once young fellow l saw
seven years ago, l burst out sObbing like a child.
He had, indeed, come home to die.
Ny wife persuaded hin to 60 up stairs, and
-, La h., ~, ,rr litta gnara he'd ac tpndeTlV
as if he had been our WI son; he was quite
passive in our hands, and allowed US to do as we
would, with a weary gentleness that was almost
too much for me. Once he asked if his father
was still alive, and if he could see him.
summoned all my courage, and went to the
parsonage to give notice of Mr.. Aliens arrival.
His father was from home, and l was glad to
leave a message instead of seeing him myself.
Late in the evening he returned, and came at
once to our house. Without a word he followed
I'D stairs into the room where his son lay. We
| left them together. What passed Mr.. Meriden
only knows; but when he came dow stairs all
his sternness was gone, and he spoke quite sub
! dued and gently, when he thanked me for my
kindness to his " dear boy"
Next morning Allen Meriden was carried to his
fathers house, and laid in the little bed where he
had slept when a boy, and which since he left 1t
TO 20 10 that roof where all his sorrows began
had received no other occupant; from that bed
he never rose, but lay there, day after day, with
out pain, without complaint, dying by degrees
Of utter, excessive weakness.
q often went TO him, and be would talk Of
Old Office days, and what had become of his fel-
low clerks, but never did he mention her, until
the last time l ever saw him, when be said to
ne
q have had a sad wretched life, Peters it
seemed as though l was born only to misery. I
never knew what it was to be loved by mother,
sister" he stopped and added. or any other
being-and the misery of feeling that we are
alone in the world, that no hearts thrill with
pleasure at your success, or weep at your mis-
fortune Now that l am lying here so near the
grave, 1 can look back calmly on my life. Oh /!
# she bad only been faithful, | should not have
died thus disgraced and unknown; but she is
happy, Peters-youk know she is well and happy"
Icould not embitter his last hours by telling
him that the very servants at tie Park talked of
and pitied the deserted young wife, the unhappy
Lady Jeldean. could not tell him that the
large fortune she had brought her husband was
almost gone-dissipated by his extravaganza,
and that her heart was breaking with his cold
ness and neglect, while his naughty relatives in
suited and despised the citizens daughter, which
they said had entrapped Sir Philip into a mesaL-
iiaRce. / dared not tell him this, so l mUmbled
out some wretched falsehOOd about her ladyship
living in a beautiful place, and of course very
happy.
Yes be murmured closing his eyes, "she is
happy, and in remembering her happiness, 1 will
forget my grief
Thus be lay in the bed where, as an innocent
boy, he had lain before and daily he dwindled
away.
A doctor from Beverly came constantly to see
him, but nothing could save him he fingered on,
until last Saturday, when he died.
Ny wife went to array the body, and under
meath his pillow she found a little packet of let
tiers tied with ribbon very small they were, very
worn and very soiled, but in his eyes who shall
say how precious
After his sons death, Mr.. Msriden returned to
his former cold reserved manner. He went calm
ly about, giving the necessary directions, and
himself wrote the words for the lid of the coffin
E" Let his name be forgotten"