The Press., 1886-10-14

girl. "Why, Jack couldn't hurt flea if he would now" ' -.
 "very likely Lockwood couldn't at one o'clock of the morning he killed Matte Randall I don't know, 2 was the response. "But know this :: Mr. anxl Mrs. Randall would not have believed that Charlie would do such & thing. Mhere is no &C., counting for what asman will do when he is tipsy. lF iIi #r7 isJ4h
 MT. Corson's after.dinpeT nap was trou- bled. He had habit of sitting with his armchair. inst pushed away from the table and indulging iii q brief snooze. That day he was unusually hot and tired, and scarcely had he closed his eyes when he found himself iuryIhan at a court, which seemed to him the last judgment. Lock woods murder case wns being tried, and when it came to the solemn questiOn-'tIs Charles Lockwood gniity of murder ?" he was utterly confounded to hear the decision of his fellow iurymen-"Not guilty l" What could it mean He would ''never agree to that if he kept his comrades clos eted through all eternity r
 stRalph Coraon r. sternly spoke one of the men, "ChaFles Lockwood did not mur- der Matte Randall. It was the cider that did it Charles Lockwood did not com. init suiOide--that cursed cider did it We are instructed to abide by law and evil dence iRF
 According to that, ]" was the reply, Ia man may get as drunk as a loon, and slash and shoot. and everything else, and go Scott free" . s a4 fasi '
 'sNo. Charles Lockwood is abOnt to be tried on another chArge-a very grave one," was the serions reply. Both he and his parents cannot fail to be found guilty. His father fairly forced him into drinking cider. tt
 "And will he be allowed in Heaven ?''
 s'I cannot say. Will not the Judge of all the world do right? One thing is cer- tain-there won't be drop of cider there. !"
 "Wrll, ? said Mir. Corson, with touch of the old drollery that helaeemed to have | forgotten for the .llst thousand years, s'lh~n you may count Ine out l" ,e5s
 And then 1t seemed that all pandemoni- um was let loose. The whole court yard seemed swarming with topers, old Bacchus at the head. "A million cheers for old Corson !" he cried. s5 5.,...- .,.,... ..
 This was too much for our friend, and he stared to run away from his uDc In- genial constituents when hand was laid upon his shoulder, poipting out to him the gallows that had b, en prepared for his SOD, Theodore Corson The victim was led up and the prisoner given permission to say few words, when, pointing his finger straight at his father, he screamed "IHere is the guilty man !! Curse him
 curse him l" and the next instant he was pushed off and swinging in space. -
 70, my God P cried the dreamer, 'hsve mercy on my soul p and he lifted his head from the table and star.d q round the din ing room. His nap was finished. The room was empty, and he could hear the idishes rattling in the kitchen. .,s "Well, if ever was thankful in all my life 1" he muttered, as he started for the I field.
 I But he could not forget, his dream. Ever in the days. that followed that terri. ble scaffold appeared before ,hls; eyes, till at last he determined to, give it wide berth. He went down cellar and rolled out every barrel of cider, 1 i sr ga.F | "There '" said he, s'that, will make win. egar enough to last all our lives and as for making or selling any more cider, I'U 6e-hGnged !f fId do" .Fs.-...5 .,a.g.