The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1873-03-13

LIFE.
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The Bank Clerks Crime

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The Bank CLERKS Crime
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4l 1t was aight-a night of storm. The
wild wind lhowled and walled, and
moaned, and the frozen rain beat pitt
tIessIy on house and pavement, and on
Itower. and pire of the great gloomy
1 town, whose IN yriad bright, twihgling
! lights served only. to render the en-
folding darkness blacker, gloomler,
and more impenetrable. .e5Y
4 The great thoroughfares which, but
4aifew hours before, resounded with
i the bustie and tumuit of thousands OF
men and women struggling for life
and position with the merciless world,
were now silent and deserted. The
tiground echoed no fo0ffall-nO one
TWAS abroad. Even the1 watchmen
were invisible, having sought shelter
in alley ways and under walls only
Hooking, forth at intervals along the
| sonber avenue, and then Going back
! to escape hespeltins sleet.
A crouching, ill-clad figure walked
/ feebly along, his, battered garments
! half stiffeDed by the frozen rain and
I fiapping in the remorseIess wind,
keeping close under a high stone wall,
half trllstingly,half doubtingly; as IT
| he feared that. lifeless though it was,
| it would spurn him out again into the
! storm. AT last the outcast sunk down
4 ofithe wet slushy ground. He was al |
alone, in the qworld--aif alone, aud
| friepdless, and weak, and poor; and
the world is not mercifnlto such as he.
/ WHY not die? He would, be found
hin the morning and buried. No, one
bwould follow him tearlully TO the
grave, 3eand limo marble would
! mark the spot, where the outcast lay !:
| but he would be at rest, and be would
not feel the 'cold-he was so cold,
And he drew his ragged cloak
closer around his shivering frame and
and moaned out his despair. gfi -
I 'sAh, If I could only find where he
lives" he articuiated in a weak, treniI
ulous voice; "perhaps would not
have to Freeze and staIve, and die,
Maybe he would help me: but / may
| rot hope. | have searched all the
long, hard day through, but no one
can tell me where he is. l He has
lchanged both his residence and his
place of business, No, no; / can not.
must not hope. i can ouly die. Great.
liGod. forgive me in that l have sinned,
and receive my soull !" ~ ~
The outcast covered up against the
| iee-glazedi wall and awaited the cold
that, would come to release his poor,
struggling spirit. Ii he could only
sleep, death would be easy. He closed
his eyes and tried to forget the cold.i
cruel world, his pitiable condition
everything save heaven
Soon something touched his hand
something thin, and limp, and wet,
la piece of paper. He picked it up
mechanically and turned it over in
his fingers. In the dim, gloomy light
he saw that there was writing on it;
and suddenly a strange, Tunaccounta-
bic desire possessed him to read the
words that the paper bore. He shook
the sleet from it. and crumplingit in
his hand, struggled to his feet. e-. <
A long way ahead lamp was shak-
ing and trembling on its post, she'd
ling a flickerine, uncertain glare over
| objects for a little distance around,
which was lost in the darkness be-
yond Toward this the outcast tot
tered. He steadied himself against
the lamp-post aud smoothed out the
paper. 1t was an old envelope, half
rent in twain and cast aside upon the
street-a worthless thing, yet invalua-
BILE to the outcast, to whom it bore
promise. He held it up to the light
and read: h8a elaifal 9a IHos "
y
II have found it I" he cried, "One
hnndred and three Vine street. 1t is
not far away. l need not starVe.
need not die. Oh, God, 1 thank
Thee!"
The outcast thrust the paper in his
bosom and went on in the darkness.
He walked faster now than before
he had received new lease of life.
Light was cleaning through the
gloom, and he hurried OIL, little reck-
ing whether it was light or dark, calm
or stormy without: for there was
light within-the light of hope.
Half an hour later he was standing
| face to face with Paul Benson, in the
bankers sumptuously appointed Ii
| brary. Paul Benson was a tall, dark,
haughty-looking man of five and for
! ty, with certain look of imperturba-
Bile firmness about his mouth and in
! his eyes that marks the man who
! neither forgiVes nor forgets, and who
holds a mean action and its author in
adherence. Not a cruel, calculating
man, but one who is perhaps little
too tenacious of his opinion of right
and wrong. te
The outcast steped forward, extend
| ing his hand. t9 r lf
| '"Stop, Claud," he said sternly. 81
cannot clasp the hand of a criminal,
though that criminal is my brother!
| If you have any thing to say, say it at
!. once; for have little time to spare
from my guests. We give party to-
night. So haste.'
Claude Benson sunk into a seat,
while great tears chased each other
down his face. W
"Ah, Paul! he moaned show can
you wound me so? AS heaven is my
! Judge l am innocent ofstbe crime Tor
which have suffered-for which /
have lost my place in the esteem of all
honest men. When did you ever
know me TO commit a base act? And
you have known me since was lit
tie baby--always since | was little
baby and sat upon your knee.
'tStopp cried Paul Benson. "Do
mot add falsehood to. base ingPatitude
and crime. AS you say, have al
ways known you. | am several years
your senior; and lifted the burden
of your education from your parents
shoulders, and when you we,e far
enough advanced, gave you situa-
tion in my banking house. You per-
formed your duties apparently in q
satisfactory manner, and in few
months more l would have made you
my partner. Money was missing
from our safe from time to time, and
suspicion pointed 90 some one in our
employ. One day Joel Red wick. the
cashier, came to me and said that he
SUSPECTED Non Of having taken the