Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1892-12-03
MINISTER'S CRIME.
CHAPTER Nv.

| tickets. In half-daxed condition
(Which the ticlret-collector probably
considered intoxication), he surrcn-
dercd his ticket without n word, md
then the train went on, and presently
he was on the platform, stumbling out
of the station on his way home, but no
more In touch with tho people and
things he passed among than q man In
| q dream.
What had he done? What had he
done? To what depth Of misery and
infamy had he cast himself? 1t was i'm
possible to sound the black bottom Of II.
81 have slain q man to my wounding;
a young man to my hurt"
The old words rose in his mind un-
biddcn-rose and sank. rose and sank
again He felt that the young man
must be lying crushed across those
rails. And it was his doing; he had not
warned the young man of his danger;
lie had consented to his death, and,
therefore, he had killed him! Oh, the
horror! Oh, the pity Of it!
| When he reached his lonely lodging II
was late, and he was dull and tired.
He was conscious of having walked q
long way round, and to and fro, but
where he did not know. The strain
was now off his nerves, and dull, dead
misery was upon him. lie mechanical
ly undrcssct, and went 20 bed and sank
to sleep at once; but his sleep was un-
refreshing; It was troubled NIL the
night through with alarms and terrors,
with scrceching and roaring trains
and falling bodies; and when in the
morning he was fully awake, his misery
settled upon HIM like a dense fog Of
death.
The morning postmen brought let
ter from his wife. She was In good
spirits, and the boy was improving rap.
Idly. Then tcars-bitter, bitter tears!
came to his relief, and he sobbed In
agony. What had possessed himq
| What ficnd o& anger and hate had en-
tered into him to make him commit
that deed? lie was aghast at the afro
cious possibilities Of his own nature.
lie felt as II he could not look in the
fnce of his wife again, or again VEN
tare to talec her In his arms. Would
she not shrink from him with horror
when she knew And would not his
boy-his little JiIn!-whcn he grew up
(if he ever grew up) bc ashamed Of
the father who had so dishonored his
name?
"Oh, my God." he cried, in his misery
and grief. Let Inc bear the utmost
punishment of my sin, but spare them!
| Punish not the innocent with the guilty!
Let my dear wife and child live in peace
and honor before Thee"
| He could not eat morsel of break
fast-hc had scarcely tusted food or
drink for two whole days-and he
could not rest in the lodgings. He wan
dercd ont with his load of misery upon
him. He was . man who seldom read
the newspapers, and he did not think OF
buying one now, nor did 1t even occur
to him to scan the contcnts-bills set out
side the news-vendcrs shops. lie mere
| ly wandered on and round, revolving
the horrible business that had brought
hin so low, and then he wandered back
in the afternoon faint with exhaustion.
When he entered the sittiag-room he
saw q letter set for him on the mantel-
piece. 1t was from his friend at Upton,
and 1t declared with delight that,
after the stirring debate on Thursday
evening. he (Murray) had been 'unant
rnously elected" minster. That WIS the
unlooked-for stroke of retTibution! To
think that he had committed his sin
nay, his crime!-in headlong wanton-
ness. TO think that at the very mo-
,ncnt when he had committed it he was
being elected to the place which he had
believed the young man had been chos-
en- to fill! Bitter, bitter was his pun
| ;uD 70, 1a. fnr NJ
he could not, with the stain of crime on
his soul, if not on his hands, accept the
placc-not even to save his wife and
child from want.
The writer further said that II was
desired that he (Murray) should occupy
next Sunday the pulpit which was
henceforward to be his. What was to
bc done? Clearly but one thing-at all
costs to occupy the pulpit on Sunday
morning, to lay bare his soul to the peo.
pie who had unanimously" invited
him. and to tell them he could never
more be minister either there or else.
where.
He sat thus with the letter in his
hand, when the door opened and his
wife came in with the boy asleep in her
since Wednesday. He rose to his feet
and stood back against the fireplace.
"oh, nay poor dear!" she cried. when
she saw him. 'How terribly I'll you
look. Why didn't you tell mes I felt
there was something wrong with YOU
when I had no word" She carefully
laid the sleeping child on the couch and
returned to embrace her husband.
Don't, Mary!" said he, keeping her
back.
"Oh James. dear!" she said. clasping
her hands. "What hns gone wrong?
You look worn to DEATH"
"Evcrything's gone wrong, Maryr
he answered. my whole life's gone
wrong!"
"What do you mean?" she asked In
brcathless terror. "What have you In
. your hand?"
He held out to her the letter, and sat
down and covered his face.