The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1884-08-09
Original STORY.
ONE MURDER.
Written for the Democratic Advocate,
BY LIONEL PRESCOTT.

ears ago, In an antlquated village, with
its rudely constructed and poorly contrived
habitations; with its old styled shops and
stores; pursuing with wonderful accuracy
and similarity the ancient customs of the
past; inhabited by sect of homespun
people, whose knowledge consisted of little
else than that which transpired within the
circle of their own friends and relatives
(for, as is generally the case, and more es-
pecially then than now, they were as a
people bound either by matrimonial con-
nections or the ties of consanguinity). A
people who saw nothing save that which
came within the scope Of their own ken,
for they seldom if ever went abroad, nor
indeed cared to; many of whom had lived
to pass the meridian of life, and even to
old age, and never had ventured beyond
the sight of their own homes. Environed
by circumscribed limit, like the clam shut
up within themselves, feasted upon the
gossip their little village and vicinity af-
forded, and were thereby content. Cared
not to know the mighty workings of the
outside world; knew nothing of the great
crimes being perpetrated, or the daily oc-
currence of some atrocious murder, black
ening the pages of history and lengthening
the annals of crime. Located in dingle,
skirted upon either side by long ranges of
mountainous cliffs, whose SUBMITS met the
horizon upon the east and west-a valley,
the fertility of which would have to-day
offered superior inducements to agricultural
pursuits, but which in part was left untitled
and neglected, and to run riot with spon-
taneous growth.
Far, far from the wracking din and noisy
strife of the busy and tumultuous city;
away from the mighty rumbling and snort
ing iron horse that carries within its power
the intelligence of the world, and spreads
along its course the means by which all its
many doings are laid bare Cut off by
many miles from any direct communication,
and by the dormancy of enterprise and civ
ilization, deprived Of those means that we
now happily enjoy-a hamlet almost lost
to the world,
Within one Of the most quaint, and,
perhaps, less conspicuous habitations that
comprised this antique and domesticated
collection, Bernardo Valette, the murderer,
lived.
Bernardo was not young, for at the open
ing of our story he was rapidly approaching
that stage in life when men are held the
most responsible, and arc considered the
most mature. Already the silver threads,
ah perhaps too soon, were plainly visible
among his raven locks His downcast eye,
mis- wan and emaciated face, his slow and
unsteady step and bent form were too truly
the evidences that life had gone hard with
him; ''that the way of the transgressor is
hard;" and bespeak in ominous signs that
death will come prematurely.
Pursuing no particular calling, but doing
that which poverty suggested and necessity
compelled, and that which he was most able
to perform, he was listlessly eking out a
miserable existence.
Within the isolated village of which we
have spoken, many years before Bernardo
had been born and reared In his childhood.
His parents, who, while much of the style,
and had imbibed many of the ways and
customs of those with whom they aSsoci.
ated, were honorable and respectable people,
and his advent into the world was therefore
unattended with any unpleasant or disrep-
utable circumstances.
Like those around him, he grew up un-
conscious, or rather without knowledge, of
that which existed beyond this circqm=
scribeq sphere, in the outside, the unknown
world
At an early age he began to exhibit
signs of an inheritance which had fallen
upon him from his father, who possessed
such peculiarities and eccentricities that
rendered him odd and noticeable and even
queer among those around them. But
his was more marked and discernible.
His peculiarities were augmented, and &C.
centricities ultra and conspicuous. Later
he became sullen and morose, and his man.
ner carried with it an unpleasantness, rem
dering him uncongenial and his society un-
courted. As year after year went by his
situation became more and more intolerable
The sunshine in life had gone out, and a
dark cloud seemed ever lowering over him.
Despair was depicted upon his countenance,
and his very aspect was such that it de-
clared life almost unbearahle.
Freighted with his peculiarities, weak
ened by the loss or absence of all amiability
of disposition, or, we might say, any admi-
rable trait Of character, with poverty star
ing him in the face, and without the aid of
friendly resource (to him at this time
would baye been the most desirable), he
resolved, young and unfit as he was to cast
his bark upon the ocean of life, scale the
walls that had held him captive since his
childhood, and risk bis almost hopeless case
in its merciless waves.
He therefore, at an early age, started
for the reckless purpose Of mingling with