Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1881-02-10

| knew he had bought it for her, that
he would give it to her that night. |
began to hate him as | never hated him
before. began TO make my grand
mistake, my believing that if he were
dead he would be out my way. | car
ried in those days knife. drew it
from its hiding place. 1t was sharp.
Itglittered in the light. | walked a
little faster. | was close behind him,
but had trodden so softly that he had
not heard me. lie was humming a
little tune, the tune of French love
song. The knife | plunged into his
back, and stopped Il note in the middle,
and cOmpletedmy mistake
"lf only could see the red roof
of the farm house. If only the sun
were not sinking 50 fast" thought.
But the vista of leary shadow spread
long before me, and | dared not even
hasten my steps.
"Yes, u mistake" he said; "A every
great mistake. He lay on his face
there in the moonlight, and then |
heard him moan once or twice, and
then gasp for breath. After awhile
he was still. Then | stopped and
touched him. How cold he was On
the little finger of the hand that had
clutched Il tuft OF soft spring grass in
his dying agOnieS, her ring glttlered.
1t looked up at me in the moonlight
like Il demon'seye. rushed away and
left him lying their. No one would
ever know that | had killed him.
Where do You think went, madam? Z?
Straight to Pamcla's house. | hld
not been there for two months, Bat |
strobe straight past the servant aal
into the passage,
"ihe window was open. There
were no lights in the room, but t'in
moon fell across the floor, whittier anl
brighter than | had ever seen it ic-
fore.
"Near the window sat Pamela; but
before | could speak, | saw that we
were not alone. Some one had entered
at the door with me, and passed before
mc now, and sat down beside her.
at was the man | had just left ly-
ing dead in Long Road. | saw his
sunny cUrls, his handsome face, the
ring on his little finger. | saw him
take the ring off and put it on her
finger, and rs he turned to do so. |
saw the knife had stabbed him with
sticking out of his back, and saw that
he was white and stiff us dead men
are. | don't know any more about it.
| don't know what | said. There was
Il trial in court, and Il prison, and saw
him lying in coffin, and five minutes
after sitting on Il chair beside me. I've
seen him ever since, Just when | did
not want too see him. For instance,
now. There he comes. Excuse me
for leaving you. | used to be called
Polite Patterson in my youth. | know
| should escort you to the door; but !
can't introduce Il dead man with Il
knife sticking out of his back TO you-
to any lady. Adieu."
To my great relief he snatched off
his sombrero, made low bow, and
dashed away into the woods again;
while | ran the other way as never
ran before in all my life
In five minutes | met little Tommy
Nimpkins driving home the cows, and
in five minutes more was safe within
the farm house, where | narrated my
adventure.
81 want 10 know said Mrs. Simp-
kns. 81 wonder you're alive. Why,
that's the loony gentleman that lives
in the hollow. lie must have got away
from the man that watches him.
believe he did kill Il young man who
cut him out of his girl twenty years
ago, and he would have been hung
only they found ont he was crazy. He
was in IN asylum Il long while, but his
folks are rich, and they have him kept
here now. | believe he's not danger
ous, but he's rather strange"
At tire time, | considered this a mild
description of Mr.. Patterson, and
thanked Heaven | had escaped yio-
lence ut the hands OF my strange COM
paniOn