San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-06-21

welding the bloody scourge. Why
then, had he come hither? Was it blu
the mockery of penitence? A mockery
indeed, but,in which his soul tri6ed witt
itself! A mockery at which angel
blushed and wept, while fiends rejoiceC
with jeering laughter.
He had been driven hither by the i'm
pulse of that Remorse which logged hin
everywhere, and whose own sister anC
closely linked companion was that Cow
ardice which invariably drew him back
with her tremnlous grippe, just when the
other impulse had hurried him to tn,
verge of a disclosure. Poor, miserabl,
man! what right had infirmity like hi:
to burden itself with crime? Crime i:
for the iron nerved, who have theil
choice either to endure it, or, if it pres:
too hard, to exert their fierce and savage
strength for good purpose and fling il
off at once! This feeble and most sensi.
tive of spirits could do neither, yet con.
tinually did one thing or another, which
intertwined in the same inextricable
knot the agony of heaven defying guilt
and vain repentance.
And thus. while standing on the scat
fold, in this vain show of expiation, Mr..
Dimmesdale was overcome with great
horror of mind, as if the universe were
gazing at a scarlet token on his naked
breast. right over his heart. On that
spot, in very truth, there was and there
had long been the gnawing and poison
ono tooth nf hadi1xy Without onu
effort of his will or power to restrain
himself he shrieked aloud, an cutlery
that went peaEng through the night,
and was beaten back from one house to
another and reverberated from the hills
in the background as if a company of
devils, detecting SO much misery and
terror in it, had made plaything of the
sound and were bandying it to and fro.
ut is doner' muttered the minister.
covering his face with his hands. The
whole town will awake and hurry forth
and find me here"
But it was not so. The shrek had
perhaps sounded with far greater
power to his own startled ears than it
actually possessed. The town did not
awake, or if it did the drowsy slumber-
ers mistook the cry either for something
frightful in dream or for. the noise of
witches, whose voices at that period
were often heard to pass over the settle
ments or lonely cottages as they rode
with satan through the air., The clergy
man, therefore, hearing no symptoms of
hiS aud
looked about him. I
His eyes, however, were soon greeted
by little, glimmering light, which, at
first a long way off, was approaching up
the street. 1t threw CLEAN of recogni
ton on here post and there a garden
fence, and here latticed window pane
and there pump with its full. trough
of water, and here, again, an arched
door of oak, with an iron knocker and a
rough log for the doorstep. The Reverend
Mr. Dimmesdale noted all these minute
particulars, even while firmly convinced
that the DOOM of his existence was steal
ing onward in the footsteps which he now
heard, and that the CLEAN of the lantern
would fall upon him in a few moments
more and reveal his long hidden secret.
As the light drew nearer he beheld
within its illuminated circle his brother
clergyman-or to speak more accurately,
his professional father as well as highly
valued friend-the Reverend Mr.. Viii,
son, who, as Mr.. Dimmesdale now con.
jectured, had been praying at the bed.
side of some dying man. And so he
had.
The good old minister came freshly
from the death chamber of Governor
Winthrop, who had passed from earth
to heaven within that very hour. And
now surrounded, like the saintlike per.
sonages of olden times, with a radiant
halo, that glorified him amid this gloomy
night of sin-as if the departed governor
had left him an inheritance of his glory,
or as if he had caught upon himself the
distant shine of the celestial city, while
looking thitherward to see the trium.
plant pilgrim pass within its gates
now, in short, good Father Wilson was
moving homeward, aiding his footsteps
with lighted lantern! The glimmer OF
this luminary suggested the above cen.
ceits to Mr.. Dimmesdale, who smiled,
nay, almost laughed, at them, and then
wondered if he were going mad.
AS the Reverend Mr.. Wilson passed
beside the scaffold, closely muffiing his
Geneva cloak about him with one arm,
and holding the lantern before his
breast with the other, the minister could
hardly restrain himself from speaking.
"a good evening to you, venerable
Father Wilson! Come up hither, pray
you, and pass pleasant hour with mer
Good heavens! Had Mr.. Dimmesdale
actually spoken? For one instant, he
believed that these words had passed