The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1875-05-06
MY RIVALS REVENGE.
BY JOHN J. GILBERT

BY JOHN J. GILBERT.
From among the experiences of a va
| ried, [ may say tumUltUous life, re.
| call with singular vividness the season
| of my soiourn in NJ, a pOpulous
and Rourishing town in Central Penn
| sylvania. [ would gladly efface from
| sylvaDia. I would gladly efface from
my mind the recollection of either the
| place or those who inhabited it, were it
in my power yet with ten-fold strength
| the scenes through which was dragged
by the impulse of Fate, seem pictured
to me now more clearly, more startling
ly, than ever.
There are moments of retrospection
in the lives of all men-mOmehts in
which the svmpathies of the mind and
heart are dovetailed when one lives
anew the whirlwinds of the past, and
exhumes from the sepulchre the faded
images of the dead, with the memo
ries, be they glorious or blood-curdling,
that were buried with them.
I look upon these visitatiOns of things
to be forgotten, with mysterious awe,
for have heard it whispered that the
souls of the murdered rest not quietly
while the murderer treads the earth,
and that the black blood trickles from
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the guilty one. Now I do not mean to
have it inferred that ever committed
murder-far from it. But one there
was-one I once knew, once dearly
loved, that did and 'tis with him my
thoughts are interviewer now. Betimes,
at night, see him in my dreams, his
pale, haggard face, furTowed by the
pangs of remorse, turned upon me
pleadingly, as though from the depths
of his wild despair a lurking phantom
bade him hope that I could help him
and when I shudder at his near approach
he turns his back upon me and walks
rapidly away. He never halts for one
moment, but in the gnawing misery of
his desolation I see him flee to the tops
of mountains, thence into the deep
recesses of the far of forests. Always
moving, now faster than before yet
whittier he flies his implacable pursuer
follows and when he turns about, a
ghastly image urges him onward.
It was his presence that disturbed
my sleep but moment ago; and now
that 1 am broad awake, I'll tell you a
story that for many year has lain the
closest secret of my heart.
1t was in the summer of 1857 that I
visited, by the advice of my physician,
syIvania. 1 had been suffering for some
time from the effects of distressing
hemorrhRges, and it was thought that
the pure mountain air of the keystone
state would affect me favorabiy, and
possibly restore me, in time, to renewed
health and vigor.
I was then in my nineteenth year,
possessed of an income sufficiently large
TO enable me to support the dignity of q
travelling gentleman, and of buOyant
spirits, rendered the more so, perhaps,
by the prospect of my speedy and last
ing recovery. After considerable shift
ing from one place to another, 1 arrived
at M. It's Fituation was so exceed
ingly pleasant in a sanitary point of
view, and, besides, the town itself was
so daintily constructed, and the good
people who made up its population
proved so agreeable, intelligent and en-
terprising, and I resolved to acquire
more than a transient knowledge of
them. Accordingly, took up my resi-
dence at the quaint old country inn that
stood near the outskirts of the town, and
prepared to make myself comfortable
for some time to come.
People IN Pennsylvania towns did not
differ in those days from people in other
interior towns and it can be easily i'm
agined how soon the queries concerning
my former residence, my business, place
of birth and pecuniary resources, were
satisfactorily answered. Thus, without
any intervention on my part, was in
troduced, individually and morally, to
the worthy denizens and an exceeding
bother was l delivered from indeed.
They were a thrifty, enterprising
people, as I have said-busy folk, who
hustled about at day break, and per-
formed a good half days work before
breakfast I soon learned to ike them,
and liking them, to watching them, and
comparing their industries, habits, and
faces aglow with health and vigoT, to
the sleepy people in the great cities,
who grumbled at the dread sound of
the breakfast bell.
In NJ, the merry songster of the
air heralded the approach of morn, and
people awoke from beautiful slumber
glad that they were awake.
I occupied a cozy little room in the
hotel which fronted upon the principal
street or thoroughfare of the town. It's
position was sufficiently lofty to COM
mand full view of the walks without
and remember taking advantage of its
eligibility to review the busy people as
they hurried to and fro in the early
morning.
fear there was more than a simple
desire to witness industry that lead me
so regularly to my watching post and
I may as we'll confess that there was a
pretty girl was the parsons daughter
in natural beauty, the belle of the town
and all the prettier, she seemed to me,
because of the simplicity and purity of
her attire. For many a morning saw
her pass and repRss my window or, with
in range thereof, her plump little arms
richly bronzed by the sun, laden with
fragrant and beautiful flowers, the re-
suit of her morning walk; and finally
come to my windew to look for her
alone. The freshness that seemed even
TO eushroud her was, to me, my morn
ing bouquet, and to have been deprived
of its fragrance would have made the
day of my deprivation desolate-
l finally became acquainted with the
parsons daughter, and when our Rc-
Quaintance was of sufficiently long dura-
ton to render my visits to her father 5
house quite proper, we learned to ike
each other very much in contemplating
| the grandeur of the scenery, the levely
points of which she seemed to apprecl-
ate with an artists eve. Her language
was the language of the flowers, and her
voice as silvery as the waters of the
golden brook that flowed gracefully at
/ the foot of the mountain. Her eyes
we're soft, yet searching at times, and
when / looked INTO their rich depths,
| concluded some glowing tribute to ma