Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1871-08-10

1 1 : I 2 u
Still the same appearance of eager
: listening.
The Major was in no hurry
He could afford to take his time
with man who held his pistol al
random, without looking tither.
ward. He took deliberate aim,
He was determined to make sure
work. If his bail missed his ad,
versary's heart, even a fraction of
an inch, he would never make
any pretension to skill again.
The sharp report of the stran,
gers pistol was followed by a con-
vulsive jerk of the Majors arm,
causing the discharge Of his weap-
on far wide of its mark, while he
staggered a few PAGES backward,
and fell heavily to the ground.
conduct me to him" said the
old man to bis friend.
1 The latter took his principals
arm, and led him to the PROSTATE
form of the Major, whose second,
kneeling by his side, had torn open
his garments, exposing to view
the fatal wound in his breast,
made by the strangers bullst.
sis your friend seriot sly hurt p
inquired the latter coolly.
"You can see for yourself, sir, "
the second answered.
"There you're in error" re-
piled the other, SIAM totallyblind." F"
The wounded man, who had
by this time revived little, and
his second, looked at the stranger
In astonishment. There was no
visible defect in organs of vision /;
but there was fixity of look
that bending of the eyes on yacan-
cy--which SO unmistakably evin-
ces the absence of sight.
"Who are you, and what was
your motive in seeking this en-
counter?" the Major family mur-
INJURED.
"First, are you in condition
to renew it?" inquired the stran-
ger.
"There is no neeo--I am dying"
"When / have told you who /
am" the stranger resumed, syou
will scarce require my motive for
what have done. No wonder you
have forgotten James Merton" he
continued, "for he is greatly
changed, no doubt
The dying man started, and
groaned bitterly.
'But I have never forgotten
you, Richard Buford, nor the in-
justice you have done me. A
cherished daughter, the pride of
my eyes, and the joy of her moth
er's heart, you enticed her from
her home, deceived her by sham
marriage, and then abandoned
her to die of broken heart. My
son, and only remaining child, in
a rash attempt to avenge his sis
ter's wrongs, fell a victim to your.
accursed skill. You even robbed
him of the ordinary chances Of
combat, unequal as they would
have been, by encasing your
cowardly body in concealed armor.
The loss of both our children un-
settled my wife's reason, and she
died in a mad house. Could |
have found you then, l would
have given you no chance for
your life, but valiant as you have
always professed to be, and cow
ardly as you are, you feared and
evaded me. Yet | knew we should
meet one day and l registered a
VOW, that when W, did I would
offer you sacrifice to your infer
nal art. To this end | studied to
become an adept in it, and / sue
ceeded. And when, at length,
blindness cast its shadow upon me,
and seemed to render hopeless the
fulfillment OF my vow, instead of
abandoning it, l betook myself. to
a new species Of practice. | sought
to make my hearing take the place
of sight. Again l succeeded. /
learned to take aim with ear in
stead of the eye. When l heard
you answer ready to-day, | knew
the exact direction in which to
| point my pistol, as well as if had
seen you. Besides | could hear
you breathing where you stood.
You wished. to make sure work,
and over-reached yourself"
More than once the Major look
ed sppealingly at the speakers
face /; but in those remorseless,
sightless eyes, there was no SYM
pathy. And as the iabored breath
ing grew fainter and fainter, the
old man resumed his listening at
titude. At last all was still.
"He is dead! ]" he said, and its
wopted expression of sober melan-
choly settled on the old mans