Year: 1865

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He doesn't sleep we'll; thought I. He
is going through with the romatic part
of life. He has taken the disease at an
untimely age; it goes hard with him
And as [ remembered I had just such
dreams at one time, when [ came near
losing the present Mrs. Jones, I was not
at all alarmed by my neighbor's ominous
expressions.


[ thought no more about the matter
till | saw the man in court mex. day
The case was that of young man on
! trial for the murder of young woman
to whom he had been betrothed. The
ground of his arrest was, that on the
night of her murder, in her own fathers
house, be was the last person known to
be with her. She had lived for several
years in New York city, and it was re-
ported that she there made the aequaint-
ance of pcnniless young man, to owhom
she had been engaged to be married !;
and that she bad broken her engage
ment with him for more wealthy rival,
whom she met after her return home


AS | listened to the proceedings Of
court, [ noticed that my fellow lodger
seemed to take more interest in them
than should be expected in an ordinary
spectator. [ then began to think wheth-
er there could be any connection be-
tween this crime and what [ had heard
him saying when in his sleep the pre-
ceding nj ,At. 1t was striking coin
cidence that Mary was the name Of the
murdered young woman. He had seemed
to be pressing his claims as more binding
than those of a later and wealthy lover
His threadbare suit and unkept general
makeup showed that he might personfy
the poor lover. Moreover be had come
from New York, and seemed to have ne
particular business, except to hang
about the court room and note the pro-
ceedings.


I kept my thoughts to myself, how
ever, and waited for further develop
ments.


That night [ went to bed first My
strange friend came up after I was ap-
parently asleep. He seemed wholly un-
conscious Of my presence. He placad
his candle on the table near his bed. and
began to examine some papers which he
drew from the breast of his seedy coat
Occasionally he would rise and pace
back and forth, as if these were some
burden upon his soul.


Yes it must be so, he muttered.-
There is no other way for it. A man
driven on by such passion as Mary in
spired is not master of himself, though
close upon the borrid deed may follow
black remorse. But I'll to bed and bide
the morrow's events; and then, if see
no other way, Ill do it,


What was it he was to do? I could
only speculate, That it was connected
with the trial [ could not doubt. It
seemed plain that he was in some way
connected with the murder Perhaps
he might be the real murderer, and,
driven by guilty conscience, was
awaiting the action of the court before
making full confession of the crime.


The next day I attended court as be-
fore. My strange friend was there, and
seemed scarcely less interested than the
prisoner at the bar. [ watched him at
tentively.


Later in the afternoon, as [ was rid
ing through the outskirts of the village
over desolate looking spot, | passed
him pacing slowly along with his hands
behind him, and, so lost in thought that
ne did not even look up as went by
lie returned to the hotel after the 9TH
er guests were seated at the supper ia
bic, and ate his meal in silence.
When | retired for the night I left
him sitting in the bar room with an
elbow on each arm Of the chair, gazing
silently at the fire.


| had been in bed about half an hour
when he came up stairs with two candles,
which he placed upon the table, then
went to his valise and took out several
quires of foolscap, and lastly, drew from
his pocket small black bottle, and
placed it by his side, as he sat down and
began to write.


was too much interested In his move
ments to think of going to sleep. so Law
still and kept my attention fixed upon
him.


At first the pen moved deliberately
over the paper, then as his hand passed
over page after page, its scratchings be-
came louder and more nervous. There
was evidently burning thoughts that
must have expression in words The
veins upon his forehead was swollen as
If ready to burst. and his whole express
sion was that of intense excitement. He
seemed to have forgotten that there was
any one else in the room, for | could
hear him muttering his thoughts aloud
as he penned them.


Now and then he would pause. draw .
long breath, and then dash on again.
At last ne threw down his pen and struck
his hand against his forehead with the
exclamation.


1 did it And now she is gone, why