Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1883-08-25


pursuing the devil; but 1t would
have been In vain for another flash
discovered him To me hanging
amOung the rocks Of the nearly per-
pendicular ascent of Mount Saleve,
a hill that bounds Plainpalais on
the south. lie soon reached the sum-
init and disappeared.
! remained mOtiOnless. The thun-
der ceased but the rain still cons
tinued, and the scene was envelOp-
ed in impenetrable darkness. | re-
volved In my mind the events
which l had until now sought to
forget ; the whole train of my prog.
ress toward the creation; the APP
pearance Of the work OF my own
hands alive at my bedside; its de.
parture. Two years had now elaps-
ed since the night ON which he first
received life and was this his first
crime? Alas, had turned loose
into the world depraved wretch.
whose delight was in carnage and
misery had he not murdered my
brother?
No one can conceive the anguish
| suffered during the remainder Of
the night, which spent cold and
wet in the open air. But i did not
feel the Inconvenience OF the wealth
er; my imagination was busy ia
scenes OF evil and dispair. / con-
sidered the being whom had east
among mankind, and endowed
with the will and power 10 effect
purposes of horror, such as the deed
which he had now done, nearly in
the light of my own vampire, my
own spirit let loose from the grave,
aud fOrced to destroy all that was
dear to me.
Day dawned, and | directed my
steps toward the town. The gates
were open, and / hastened to my
fathers house. My first thought
was to discover what / know of the
murderer, and cause instant pursuit
to be made. But paused whenI
reflected ON the story that had to
tell. A being whom myself form
ed, and endued with life, had met
Inc at midnight among the preci-
pices of an inaccessible mountain. l
remembered also the nervous fever
with which had been seized just
at the time that / dated my crea-
OF delirium to a tale otherwise so
improbable. l well knew that IL
any other had communicated such
u relation to me, / should have
looked upon il as the rawlings OF in
sanity. Besides, the strange ma
ture of the animal would elude all
pursuit, even If were SO far credit
Ell as to persuade my relatives to
commence il. Besides, of what use
would be pursuits? Who could ar
rest a creature capable of fscaling the
overhanging sides of Mount Saleve?
These reflections determined me,
and resolved to remain silent.
Ii was about five in the morning
when entered my fathers house.
told the servants not to disturb
the family, and went into the libra
ry to attend their usual hour of ris-
ing.
Six years had elapsed, passed as n
dream but for one indelible trace;
and stood in the same place where
had last embraced my father, be-
fore my departure for IngOlstadt.
Beloved and respected parentl He
still remained to me. l gazed on
the picture of my mother, which
stood over the mantelpiece. II was
u historical subject, painted at my
fathers desire, and represented Car
oline Beaufort in an agony of dis
pair kneeling by the coffin OF her
dead father. Her garb was rustic,
and her cheek pale; but there was
an air of dignity aud beauty, that
hardly permitted the sentiment Of
pity. Below this picture was
miniature of William, and tears
flowed when / looked upon il.
While was thus engaged Ernest
entered f; he had heard me arrive,
and hastened to welcome me. He
expressed sorrowiul delight to see
me. "Welcome, my dearest Vic
tor" said he. "Ah! / wish you
had come three months ago, and
then you would have found us all
Joyous and delighted. But We are
now unhappy, and am AFRAID tears
instead of smiles will be your wei
come. Our father looks so sorrow
full; this dreadful event seems to
have revived in his mind his grief
at the death OF mama. Poor Eliza
beth also Is quite inconsolable."
Ernest began TO weep AS he said
these words.
ado not ".saitl i, "weleOme me
thus try to be more calm, that
may not be absolutely miserable
the moment i enter my fathers
house after so long anabsence. But,
tell me, how does my father sup-
port his misfortune and how is
my poor Elizabeth ?''
1tGI,n fnIoa1 rau,tf,.ss, ,.nnu,,laIfnV.
she accused herselfo OF having caused
the death OF my brother, and that
made her very wretched. But since
the murderer has been discovered
-
1.-The murderer discovered Good
God! how can that be? who could
attempt To pursue him ? IL Is inn
possible; one might as well attempt
to overtake the winds, or cOnilne
mountain stream with straw"
~ do not know what you mean
but we were all very unhappy when
she was discovered. No one would
believe II ut first, and even now
Elizabeth will not be convinced,
Notwithstanding all the evidence.
Indeed who would credit that JUS
tine Moritz, who was so amiable
and fond OF all the family, could all
ut once become so extremely wick
ed 2" .. .4g
Justine Moritz! Poor, poor girl,
is she the accused ? Bot il Is wrong
fully; every one knows that no
one believes it, surely, Ernest ?'i
"NO one did at first but several
came out, that have
almost forced conviction upon US
and her own behavior has been SO
confused as to add 10 the evidences
OF facts weight that, fear, leaves
no hope for doubt. But she will be
tried to-day, and you will then hear
all.
He related that the morning up
on which the murder of poor VIII
liam had been discovered, Justine
had been taken i'll, and confined to
her hed and, after several days,
Que Of the servants happening tO
examine the apparel she had worn
on the night OF the murder, had dis
covered In her pocket the picture Of
my mOtheT, which had been Judged
Ia be the temptation OF the murder
er. The servant instantly showed u
to one of the Others, who, without
saying word to any of the family,
went TO magistrate, and, upon
their deposition, Justine was appre-
hended. On being charged with