The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1872-09-20

dercd, as no paper was found In ROuse's
cell, There were some letters written
by the Rouse family, And sbriie pic
lures, which &eie directed to be sent
to thelh. They were forwarded at once,
as gentleman i'm the place was in
communication with thehi.'"
| In due time they were received, and
added another pang to the breaking
hearts of those who had loved him 10
much. They had cherished siich high
hopes for him, aid to think they had
ended In such an ignOininious death: It
is no wonder that THE m6ihet's burden
was too heavy t6 lie borne, and she
laid 1t HHwh with her life when she
learned the dreadful end of ber first
born. She died, hoping aud trusting
that 1t would all he r,sste right to her;
she believed she should find her boy
| and the horrible mistakes would be
cleared up. She'spoke of him as dying
q martyrs death, and those who heard
her feiOIcet that she could have the
| comfort of the thought, though they
had no doubt of his guilt.
NJ. Rouse became bent and gray;
weeks did the work of years upon him.
He lees all Interest in his business, and
iCl1oo bCoA CNt lOA AIto ICdSOu, lOf
! dwelt continually upon the message
which Charlie had Thought of setidiiig
him. "What could 1t be? What would
he have said i'm that last dreadful hour.
| nnd why had he refused to give it?"
In vain the loving daughter turned
from her own grief to comfort her
| father; his was wound for which
there was no balm OH earth, and he
<&y1SAlA <.tcsttSv l. r. =
she grave. But it is not those best fit
ted 10 die who pray for death, neither
will 1t COME because of their prayers.
He had ceased to leave his house,
when one day an old man called and
persisted that he must see Mr.. Rouse.
The servants would have .eEt him
away, but the daughter Thought that
he might have suiiie pitiful story which
would divert her fathers thoughts
from his own troubles for a little while,
50 she had him admitted. He wished
to see Mr.. Rouse alone, and hardly
seemed able to satisfy himself as to the
identify of the man before him.
At last he asked doubtiDgly, "Be you
the man as owned the Adrian once?"
"Yes, but it is nothing to me now; 1
have no thoughts for anything but my
poor boy"
"I knowed a mother who lost her
gal, all the one she had too, and she
never heard word from her after she
went out one night. Did you ever
think you heard her screaming for
herr? have"
"W'hat is that to me, old man? If
you have come begging for yourself or
her, take this and go; you can find
some one else to listen tn your sorrow
some one who has less of their own to
bear.1
"But 1 have come to talk of yours l
know them all. l can begin clean
back to where you thought you was
lucky in getting rid of poor foolish
Katie.
II saw you that night, mor' n twenty
years back, when you gave her into
the care Of our Cap'n. 1 heered him
swear as how you should never hear
from her again, and heered how she
begged you not to leave her, and you
said If she'd 20 on the Adrian you'd go |
back and tell her mother, and then |
you'd come with her. That was the
last time she ever set eyes OH you, and |
she had mighty lonesome time of it. |
Her baby came in about the biggest |
storm even saw, 'cept Que, aud when |
we had to leave the ship took the |
poor little thing from his dead mothers |
arms and nussed it for the most time
till we landed i'm Frisco. You won't |
care much about the boy, though he
so0s your'n, but when we christen'd |
him on board the lOng-boat we called
him Joy Adrian, after the ship ard the |
boat, and I wished you might suffer
for the harm which had come to poor |
Kate. told Joy that klowed of you
and his mother, cause 'twant mOre'n
fair for him to hear it. That was when
he was better than ten years old, and /
never saw him again till-well, till
day or so before he died. Do you want |
to hear anything more about himT'
He waited, but there was no reply. |
Mr.. Rouse sat gazing at the narrator
with an ashen face and eyes which.
seemed starting from their sockets.
"YOur Charlie went out into these |
parts where Joy Was; twas Gurus
like that they should meet; they were
brothers. sorter, you know, Well, l
have wished hundred times that l |
hadn't told him bout you, but 1
thought maybe 'twouId make his for
tune some day, and you'd rather set
him right than to have a talk made |
bout it."
"And 50 1 would. Where did you
say he is?"
II said he was dead. 1t is Gurus,
agin, that they should both be buried |
in that country, amt it? And they |
are buried side 10y side, though nobody |
knows that but l."
Mr.. Rouse started up eagerly. "Do
you know where my Charlie lies? |
Who took him down from that dread !
full tree? Tell me, and if you can prove |
your words l will give you more money |
than you ever held in your hands
before"
l don't want a cent. 1 think there |
must be a curse upon it, but was |
afeared to die before 1 told you the |
truth about your boy. Joy found out
who he was, and laid his plans heavy: |
how he brought them round 1 can't |
say, but this 1 know, he took the name
of Charles Rouse, it being your name,
when he was still boy. Don't judge |
him harsh, but he killed yOur Charlie |
and somehow got his letters and |
things, and he had his revenge on you |
by making you think your son was
hung. He was only known by the |
name of Rouse, and the other one
wasn't known at all, saw them
hang poor Joy that night, and 1
couldn't help him, cause there was so |
many, and I was only one PIC old |
man, but cut him down and dua him
a grave at the side of his brother.
"YOu don't mind, do you? They
were both you boys, you know, only
one had everything and the other
nothing. 1 took him in my arms
when l carried him to be buried just
as I did that night on the sea. 1t
stormed awful the night that he was
born and the night that he died, and
his was stormy life; didn't have a
fair chance, you see, and his mother
didn't either. I never let on a word
of this 'ere out there, 'cause told Joy
| wouldn't, but he never dreamed OF
poor Jack coming way here. SO now
I have had my say and will go, but
firEt let me tell you, poor as ! am,
would rather be so than have your |
money and your thoughts
The door had been partly op"n and
the daughter had listened to the old !
mans story. 1t was by far the Litter
est drop in her cup, but the innocent |
must ever suffer with the guilty, and
she knew she cOuld never clear her |
brothers. memory without bringing |
her father into dishonor. When hours |
went by and she heard no sound fIom
= n