The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1865-05-08

"Go and bring the judges" cried,
continuing my work with an increasing
exaltation. :,
s.They are waiting for you in the
court" replied Schlussel.
81 wish to make some revelation to
them," I exclaimed, putting the last
stroke to the mysterious parsonage.
There he was, frightful to see; his face
seemed to be detached from the white
background and stood out in bold relief.
The Tailor left the dungeon. In few
moments the two judges appeared; they
seemed perfectly stupefed: With my
arm extended and every limb In my
body trembling, exclaimed:
behold the assassin
"His name9" said Van Spreckdal, after
few moments
81 do not know it; but he is at this in
slant under the market house, choppiDg
meat on the third stand to the left OF
Traban's street"
what do you think of all this!" said
he, leaning over to his colleague.
LET the man be brought here, replied
the other, in grave tone.
Some policemen Immediately ran to
obey the order The judges remained
standing still looking at the sketch,
while sank down on the pallet, with
my head between my knees, completely
exhausted.
Soon the sound of distant steps could
be heard under the vaulted roof. Those
who have not waited for an hour of de-
liverance and counted the minutes, then
long as centuries-thOse who have not
experienced the poignant emotions oil
expectation, terror, doubt, cannot conf
prehend the trembling that seized every
limb could distinguish the footsteps
of the murderer amidst those OF his
guards. They approached; even the
Judges appeared moved 1 raised my
head, and, pressing my hand on my heart,
fixed my eyes on the closed door. 1t
opened. The man entered. His cheeks
were swollen, and his heavy jaws, close
ly contracted, brought in full relief the
muscles of his face; his small eyes, rest
less as those of wolf, glittefed under
his heavy eyebrows.
Van Spreckdal pointed silently to the
sketch on the wall.
The moment this huge man looked at
it he turned pale as corpse, and, utter.
ing cry which froze the blood III our
veins, he stretched out his arms and
made bound backwards through the
door and struggled with the officers OF
the law. A scene Of great confusion en-
sued. We could hear the painting breath
ing of the butcher fearful curses, broken
sentences, and the sound of many foot
steps on the stone pavement OF the cor
rider
This lasted more than minute.
At last the assassin rc-entered, his head
bent down, his eyes bloodshot, and with
his hands tied behind his back He
again fixed his eyes OH the picture of the
murder he appeared to reflect moment.
and then exclaimed, in low voice, as II
speaking to himself:
"Who could have seen me at mid
night9"
Twas saved!
Many years have elapsed since this
terrible adventure. Thanks be to God
| make no more silhouettes, nor even
paint the portraits of burgomasters.-
Through hard work and perseverance
have achieved my reputation, and earn
my living hohorably by works of art, the
sole end, in my opinion, that the true ar
fist ought to strive TO attain. But the
remembrance of this nocturnal sketch
has always remained in my recollection
Sometimes, in the midst OF my work, my
thoughts revert to it, Then | put down
my palette and dream for hours tnGeth
er.
How was it that IA crime, committed
by man that did not know, in a house
which had never seen, could be traced
by my pencil, even to the most minute
detailsl
Was it chance2 No. And besides,
chance is, after all, only the effect of a
cause of which we are ignorant.
Schiller was right when he said: "Tbe
immortal does not participate i'll the cX-
haustiOn to which matter is subjected;
during the sleep of the body il spreads
its radiant wings and flies, the Almighty
knows where. What it then does 10 one
can tell, but inspiration sometimes be-
trays the secret Of its peregrinations.'
Who knows! Nature is more bold in
its realities than imagination its fancies