The evening times., 1896-03-05

walls tomorrow, affirmed JOD StafHs-
II dunno. I'm afeared it's a righteous
| Judgment" assents Caleb. piously.
The stranger says nothing, but writes
| rapidly on sheet OF paper torn from a
notebook. After the Others have slouched
| out. one by one. he leaned toward Caleb
| with the document in bis hand.
| Read that.''
| Caleb reads, and his Jaw drops as il
| from utter lack of strength to bold 1t
in place.
"Gosh,-gosh all hemlockt" spIutters Ca
| leb. whte-raced and trembling. staring at
the stranger with bulging eyes.
II am waiting for you to arrest me-"
| said the stranger. quietly; the glimpse
of a smile lowering about his lips as he
| notes his hosts agitation.
Caleb shrinks lower in his chair as he
again reads:
ITO whom II may concern:
-, S.ibert Latnropc. have concluded to
| make amends for the Injustice I allowed
| to fall upon my comrade. Robert PeytDu.
| son of the Rev. Z. Peyton, OF shire,
| England.
''He was accused and convicted of the
murder of John Winthrop and condemned
| To Olfeimpri-Onment.
Il swear that am the murderer, and
knew myself 90 be so at the time.
"Peyton was under the influence OF
| wine. and was easily made 10 believe
he struck the blow.
His unjust confinement WAS suddenly
ended by his death soon after his family :
departure for America, ami he iisz IN the
/ potter's field.
II herewith give myself up TO justice
| and am ready to suffer the full penalty
OF my crime
Seibett Lathrope was confined In the
! cellar Of the village store. there being no
| provisions for prisoners In Bolienvilie,
while the news spread Ike Wild fire.
Christmas morning broke clear and cold:
| carly sleigh bells jingied over the welt
| broken roads, carrying loads uf smiling,
| bundIcd.up people 10 the homes of friends
The changing of the little hoarse bell
IN the stone belfry called forth as large
| congregation as II they had been the
golden chimes OF st. Peters.
II seemed to the patient man who looked
down from the pulpit as If at last his
prayers were being answered and this
meant the incoming of souls to the light.
From the dark background the sensi-
| tive face and white locks OF the deSpised
pastor shone out like a pityine angel.
His words seemed inspired.
He chose for his text: Peace on earth,
good will toward men," Upon this theme
he delivered a sermon, in which were
blended persua sion, cntreaty. comfnan nd, all
in one masterful tide of eloquence. His
voice sank lower ashe reached the close and
thanked the people for once more railying
around him.
His falterng words of gratitude smOte
the ears of many unpleasantly.
The service over, he was greeted on all
sides by extended hands and friendly greet
ings.
Deacon Tufts took him aside, but seemed
way. He turned to go, then suddenly faced
about and said in 4 hesitating voice:
.I1cv you heard the news?''
Il have heard nothing; what has hap
pened?''
Something in the deacon's face alarmed
him. and he grasps his coat sleeve.
Pears as how there's been an arrest
down to there village, and they say as how
it consarns you.
Thought I'd better tell you before some
sOt NOu, edlu Bt,
wistfully.
The minister looked at him in a dazcd
way without coEiprehcnding his meaning.
They say az how your son never did
that murder, and this man they've got.
did: so thet's the long and short OF It,"
said the deacon, feeling as If be had viii
fully touched an open wound.
whats the n,attcr7'' as the old man.
turning faint, leaned against a post for
support.
Maybe its only story, but thought
orter tell you
Caleb Stone carefully unbolted the cellar
door for the minister to enter.
His boy to be rree: no morr separations,
no more hiding away from his fellow men;
the thought was joyi
The man raised his head at the minister's
entrance: his face was well In shadow.
Now that the supreme shadow had come,
without hesitation he followed the course
he had laid out for himself.
MIR. PeytoB. don't you remember me-"
MY son. cried the Old man, with such
n ring OF tenderness IN his Quiverine voice.
MY boyr"
He put his trembling arms about the
mans neck. while the tears fen like rain.
"You are mistaken. Mr.. Peyton; am
Lathrope. the murderer"
"Oh, what are you saying. Robert; you
are Ill. Don't you suppose I would know
you In spite OF any changes in your
The old man fondIes the thin hand and
tries to raise the face, but the man keeps
it bent forward.
"You are mistaken; am Lathrope," he
reiterates. "Your son is dead; but he was
innocent. The constable has my confess
sion; he will tell you ALL"