The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1868-04-30
The Story Of Howard Abarshaw
A Drama of Real Life.

I@fA""I nouic III eurIit, tHe DOuJ Oh
nan whose strange history is as yet un
told to the public. The day az I we'll re
member, was such an one 40 this
cold, stormy, and dismal, with driving
snow and bowling winds; but q very
large %concOurse of m0urners, including
ntany women, struggled through the
deep drifts after the hearse, to pay theil
hst sad tribute OF love, respect or ad
sniration, at the open grave Of this re
~snarkable man.
Twenty five years ago, he died, and
with him died, for the time, the terrible
secret Of his long years of agony and
remorsc. In revealing it now l VIC
late no confidence; when he entrusted
me with his story he permitted me, nay
enjoined me to give it to the public Of.
ter his death. That l have not done
so before is due to the regard / have
for his memory. Despite the fearful
crime that darkened his life with Its
extraordinary circumstances, / know
that l felt something like affection for
the man as indeed all felt who were
eve brought within the charmed cir
Gle of his acquaintance. And feeling
thus toward him, | may truly say that
I regretted the injunction, which, with
his last breath he imposed upon me, to
publish his revelation after he should
be gone and thus I have long delayed
in so doing, Perhaps it Is well that l
have delayed. A quarter Of q century
has wrought startling changes upon
the surface of society in this great city /;
many Of Howard Abershaw's former
acquaintance have died, many have re.
moved to other scenes; and there are
comparatively few who knew him then
who will now learn from these columns
his real history. To these / would
only say-judge him not harshly. Re-
member his virtues. his charities, and
his henefactions, and weigh his man
fold excellencies against his sin, at
tended as it was in life by such hideous
suffering.
write these lines from my home,
my chambers within the walls of this
old hotel, which has been my home for
thirty years, and the home Of others
for a century before me. Both in my
day and in Older days, its walls have
been the respectacles of strange Sc
crets within them have been deaths,
and marriages, and births, and I know
that some of the darkest chapters Of
the human heart have written them
selves here, in sorrow, in contrition, in
despair--but never one, l think, so sad,
so utterly hopeless in its life long mis-
cry as that of Howard Abershaw.
Here he lived, hiding in silence his
crushing weight of misery, while the
tides Of happy life ebbed and flowed
beneath his windows, and the rush and
roar Of trade came up to his ear like a
mockery from the street below; and
here at last he died, and found-God
grant it! peace, eternal peace for his
distracted soul.
1t is time that the story were told.
The accident of an hour may at any
time place it beyond my power to tell
it; and the wishes of the dying are not
to be d~isrcgarded. | give it, then, to
print, because he wished it; my chart
ty for his errors, and the regard l bore
him living, would otherwise constrain
me to silence, that the secret might one
day perish with me, and no cloud rest
npon his good name.
It'll MAN.
He was truly q remarkable person.
No II could meet him casually and
not feel it, still less could any person
sit with him for half an hour, and leave
him without regret. He was in every
sense superior to the beings around
him intellectually as we'll as physical
ly, ke lowered aboye us all, and des.
troyed envy by the very vastpess fhis
superiority. We did reverence to his
genius, because he was irresistible ) he
delighted, he fascinated, he almost ter.
riied by the wonderful magnetism of
his presence and the charms of CONVEX
sation and his personnel itself would
have drawn to him admiration and IA
yor Nature had lavished her gifts up
on him unstintedly EDUCATION had pol
ishcd and set them, as the lapidary does
the diamond.
When he came to the city, perhaps
thirty five years since, society was vast
~ different from that of the present
day. Fashion was not the dominant
goddess, nor was money the all potent
motive men and women paid. court to
genius, and to him who possessed it
was given the master key Of all houses.
He found here a large coterie of bril-
liant young men, enthusiastics in poll
tics, the professions, and trade and a
society of women to whom God had
been bountiful in his gifts of beauty |
and mental worth. Literature and
the arts were n Ut then, as now, confined
to the lbr; ries and studies of a few ap-
preciative devotees the surface of So
cial life sparkled with the wealth Of
mental requirement, and men and wo
mon seemed to live less selfshly than
now, and to delight in comforting bene-
fits upon others. And into this CAarm-
ed circle Abershaw stepped as easily &
and confidently as though a life time Of I
experience, instead Of less than forty {
years, had passed by him; and very |
quickly did he become its tacas prineeps. |
He was somewhat the elder of US all-lt
ten or fifteen years in advance Of the
younger members Of this society, who 8
the more readily and willingly acknowl- /,
edged his extraordinary powers. He 1
seemed to have no intimates, no favor l.
ties dispensing the light and warmth
of his presence and intercourse to the {
remotest corner ola parlor, he yet qui 1
city and delicately parted every at /