Litchfield enquirer., 1878-07-25

l WHICH was only GC0 Iamlllar WlLn, could no
 longer nlistake.the meaning of my dream. It
 could be nothing but portent-a warning of
 what might happen to me. I should be there;
 l should pass the place on my journey home,
 in darkness and alone conditions favorable
 to the attack which could not but suppose
 now would be made upon me, for the sake of
 the money whichmy business would oblige me
 to carry. 1 should defend it, and I should
 kill my assailant! Yet why was the veil
 which it is the privilege of man to find ever
 hanging before his future, lifted for me? l What have done, that the one shield which | guards the happiness of human beings, that | ignorance of what the next day or the next
 hour may have in store for them, should be dashed from my too far seeing eyes2 Why
 has my life been gradually and irresstibly en- 1 bittered by sight of what might iustifably,
 though unintentionally. be forced upon me? l ''That man in the contemplation of some 1 hideous crime, should be warned from it in dream that showed him to what it would lead, seems feasible and we have heard that such | things have been, and that men have been
 turned from their evil purpose thereby. But
 that l, knowing of no malicious intention having as God is my judge, none in my heart, should have thus been persecuted by some | fendish, uncomfortable phantom of the brain,
 which, by it's persistent nightly presence should l have shed its horrid shadow on my daily life l was unaccountable. | "Yet there was more behind; more myste- " to aggravate the terror. Coming home af- | ter that visit to Meresdene with Mir. Shepfold, | l threw myself on my bed, with dread of | sleep that l cannot express. Perfectly certain
 now that should go on dreaming till the end
 was reached. determined Iwould not sleep. l lay there, devising some plan by which 1 ! could avert this impending catastrophe. It
 was my duty to do so, both to myself and my l employers; for the sum of money 1 should have with me would be very large. I would l detail to them exactly what have said above
 1 would urge them to see it as I saw it-that
 it was an unmistakable warning which we
 had no right to disregard. They might think
 me fool, lunatic, a coward-what they
 pleased; but l would not take that journey
 alone, and l hoped they would not wish it
 Yes. l would state my case the following | morning. An infinite sense of relief came over me when l had made this decision, calm to which I had been stranger for months
 "a calm, indeed, that, despite my resolution,
 soothed me to sleep.
 "1nstanfyI dreamed. Of course was | upon the downs under the usual circunlstan-
 ces; the frosty fog, the gig with glimmering | lights the chalk cutting the hill and road be-
 heath it, the Whiteways, as I now knew the | spot to be called; then the prostrate form up | on the road, the red stain upon the chalk, my | figure, with the bloody hands, bending over it | details which had always been able to discern | plainly in my dreams, notwithstanding the want of light; and the effort I myself am
 making to drag the body across the road to hurl it down the steep slope!
 But ah ! what new and strange revelation is
 this? What new and terrible solution to this
 mysterious dreaming is about to be made to
 me? The crape mask that has always hither- | to hidden from me the mans face is gone and l beheld in my assailant and robber the un- l mistakable features of-but dare not write | his name, lest this fall into other hands than | yours, mother-hut you will understand who | it was thus saw in my dream, when I say
 that it was he who is the unhappy cause of our great grief and sorrow, and whom we SUD- | pose now to be far away. I was awake again the instant after this, in a frame of mind ex- ceeding in it's agony anything I had ever felt Ii might accept all that had gone before as | portent, why should doubt that the catastro- phe was to be brought about by this unhappy man? 1t would not be more marvellous than | any other part of my never failing dream. Should there be any truth in it, and it was my l destiny to be attacked and robbed by him, then
 there was sufficient reason for my not claim ing the protection which companion on that
 journey might give me. No; now knew 1
 must go alone to meet whatever might befal, or to dspel at once and forever the shadow of the dream If was really so to meet him in the flesh, if he really be in England, no one must know it but myself Then the dream may, after all, become the beneticent means of saving him and preserving me from the com- initial of deed that would weigh upon me to the end of time
 ''Thus concluding on the morning after my expedition with MT. Shepfold, had but to
 wait for this, the momentous day. It has come, and in few hours 1 shall be on my road. For the last seven successive nights, the
 vision, with all its latest circumstances has
 been present whenever, through sheer fatigue, have given way to sleep; while by day, it's shadow has darkened on me hourly, to the ex- clusion of all but that scene on the White ways.
 ''I start, at least prepared"
 Very dim was the light, however, that this statement let in upon the catastrophe. To be brief, it led to nothing practical; nothing more could be done until young Chase had recover ed sufficiently to be able to give personal ac- count of the affair. Months passed before this was possible his health returned very slowly The doctors forbade any questioning or excite ment and 1 really didn't know the details of anything that had transpired until he was pro- nounced fit to appear before our Board of Di rectorS.
 Then was present, with the rest of the PSOpiO SOHSCAACu. 1t was IIhC pIItdt6 of justice, and young Chase was arraigned, as it were like criminal. When he came into the room his altered appearance was startling. had only seen him twice slnce his setting out on the fatal journey; once when he was lying quite lnsensible at the turnpike, and once, when he was only little better, at the county hospital. He now looked twenty years older his thin, pale face was deeply furrowed, his long, dark hair thickly tinged with gray, and the dreamy expression in his large eyes had changed to one of wildness, while his black clothes added to his weird, ghost-like appear ance. He pulled himself together, however by great effort, and, in answer to the ques- tions the Chairman put, this is about what he said, as near as 1 can remember.
 1.-The statement which you gentlemen, found | addressed to my poor mother, and which you | have just read to me- is strictly true to the let ter. It is fuller than any account could give | now of my feelings and state of mind prior to | the 18th of November. have very little to | add, but will tell you what can
 ''As approached the Whiteway, on my re- turn homeward journey, all the conditions of | my dream were realized. I appeard to have | been within them so often before that might | have been dreaming then. Everything was so | familiar. There was no difference betw cen | my sensations asleep or awake, had no sense | of being, of actual existence, in one state more than ln the other. felt was gliding to my 1 destiny; gliding without movement, with | out bodily effort, precisely as one does in sleep. can give no better account of what happen 1 ed. The fog wrapped me round. There was an interval, an impression that was strug- l gling, l appeared to fall; and then-I awoke in | the hospital, two months back. I can tell you 1 no more"
 t'But did you see no one? Did noone stop you?"
 "No one, that l am aware of; but could | not swear it, ;" was the answer.
 But the pistols; were they yours ?"
 "Yes; mechanically had provided myself | with them; but with no thought of using. If | remember rightly, took them from my pocket, and placed them between my feet | when left Dene's Gate I wished no one to know that was armed"
 'sAnd, on your word and honor, Mr. Chase you do not remember being attacked? ?"
 ''On my oath, remember no more than I | have told you"
 ''And the money where was that ?''