Year: 1871

my happiness. There came no answer-b,


the calm stiffness of the place brought though


OF the rest which my lost parent was enioyips


and felt it would be selfish and sinful to wis


to recall him, and returned home feeling trar
quill and happy.


| As soon as our arrival was known in the vi
| lage, DIR. Saunders aud other old friends cam
| to welcome us. Their cordial greetings al
sured US Of the heartfelt pleasure our retur
afforded them.


The Summer passed quietly and pleasantly
Edward spent the months of July and Angus


at home, returning to Yale in September. L


another year he was to complete his studies


then we would commence life together. Au


tumn, the death time of flowers, with its YES


ture of gold and brown and crimson, and tn


mused OF sighing winds, had come. The vel


low corn, the mellow pears and apples were be


ing gathered-the squirrel was hiding away hi


store OF nuts for the coming winter-the will


geese we're seeking their sunny, southern home


and robin red-hreast poured forth his mellow


notes from amid the chestnut boughs.


One evening, when [ returned home late


than usual from one of those long solitary ride


which l was In the habit of taking, I was me
at the hall door by servant who informed mt
that gentleman had been waiting for the las


half hour to see me. "He must be very i'm.
patient at your delay she added, ''for he has
been standing at the window looking down the
avenue the whole time''


10 avoid keeping him waiting any longer, ]
went ln' Just as was, In my riding hat and
habit. L recognized the stranger as he adj
vanced to meet me, as Mr.. Phillips, college
mate and friend of Edward, whom [ had met
several times before during my stay in the city.
Alter the usual civilities, there was an embar-
rassed silence which he broke by saying


Il have come In compliance with the request
OF my friend, Saunders. bring tidings which
| fear you are lll-prepared to hear, and which
would have chosen, that another than myself
should break to you, but my friend preferred
that should do t.''


Then softening it as much as he could, he
told bis horrible story The charge of having
robbed the orchard of one of the farmers in
the vicinity OF New Haven, had been brought
against some of the students at Yale. This
same farmer had met Edward as he was re-
turning from hunting, and accused him openly
OF having been one of the perpetrators of this
ward had taken the life of his accuser. He
made no attempt to shun the punishment his
deed merited, but gave himself up and vas
conveyed to prison the same day.


Here, continued my visitor, when he had
hnlsAed lis recital, lis what he wrote and bade
me give you" Mechanically, I took the pa
per which he held towards me, and sat there
mute and motionless in my great, voiceless
grief, while the storm surged over my soul,
crushing me. 1t was not because the hollow,
heartiess world would condemn him-that his
would be upon every lip-his name
everywhere coupled with slander and disgrace,
that my heart was wrung; but because he
whom L knew to be noble and generous should
have so yielded to passion, as to commit this
dark sin against God and against his fellow
man.. did not love him less in his guilt than
had while his hand was yet unstained with
crime. had given him my love in his pros
perity, when glorious future opened before
him; could not Withdraw it now, when he
most needed it in his shame and misery But
my affection for him did not hide his guilt
on the contrary, l looked at it in a truer light
than would had | cared less for him. So, he
was shut up there, ali alone, with no compau-
ION but his remorseful thoughts and their bur-
den of sin upon his SOUL There was DO one
to speak word of-comfort. [ thought of this
aud my resolution was formed. | would go to
him at once. Did he not tell me that God had
given me to him !? and if so, had He not also
given me the right to be his comforter in trou-
bic! Let the world say what it would its praise
and Its blame were one to me. / reused my
self from my stupor and unfolded the sheet of
paper which had been given me, and read:


just Heaven Is my witness, Hattie, that
when wooed you, l never thought to bring
such lifelong sorrow upon you. have rob-
bed your youth of all Its sunshine. [ would,
# | could, turn your love for me to hatred, that
l might spare you this pain. [ could meet my
death bravely, if that death caused
no suffering save my own"-and that was all,
not even the signature was added. My visitor
arose to go. "You must tell his father this,
| said to him, for | could not He bowed &C
quiescenee and left me.


Scarce twenty-four hours after this visit, |
passed In through the prison hall, and up a
long flight of steps, preceded by the keeper of
the prison, who in the upper passage, opened
a door, and motioned me to enter. The place
was like grave 10 narrowness and gloom; at
the farther end It's single inmate was PROSTATE
on the floor. His face, which was turned to
the light, was concealed by handkerchief
He was lying just SO this morning when |
brought him his breakfast" said the keeper in
an undertone. Il would not wake him, for [
think it is the first time he has slept Stree he
came here" A cold chill crept over me, |
crossed the room slowly and took up the hand
kerchief-then threw it from me with cry
The odor OF chloroform about it explained that
quiet sleeping. l had come too late, His
soul had entered eternity unbidden. God and
his angels only knew at what hour, In agony,
pleaded that the departed spirit would re-
turn to Its clay, just for moment, that j
might say good bye," and watch the ebbine
out of life's tide. But my pleading was of nc
avail; prayers and tears could not bribe death
to give up his victim. He was taken and
was left. | have only a faint recollection of the


lrst few days that succeeded this event.


know that they brought him home and laiC


him under the chestnut trees, and | remembe


that stood and watched them hiding hiu


away under the earth, and that all the while


voice within seemed whispering, mo sef-mur


derer may inherit eternal life. The chastise


ment was sent in love, but rebeliously refuset


to believe it, and hardened my heart agaius


my Heavenly Father Friends came to eomfor


me by telling me that the affliction was for M
good, and that it was my duty to bear it pa


tlently. knew they meant that his soul wa
lost, that mine might be saved, and | scorne,
their offered consolation. Very, very long,


wandered on in the dark ere my spirit, broke
and subdued, crept to the feet of our Saviour


and laid Its weary burden down, murmuring-
Even SO, Father, for SO it seemeth good i


Thy sight-Thou dcest all things we'll" An
He who had yearned to enlighten my darkness:
though He did not remove my pain, took ava


the sharpness OF it, and taught me patience
For thirty years the Summer zephyrs, the Au


tumn showers, and the Winter winds hav
| chanted their requiems above that grave unde


the chestnuts. And when I think how calml
| the sleeper there is resting, pray heaven ths
| in his last hour upon earth he repented of h
| dark deeds, and that God in His infinite Low
and pity, gave the wanderer home in II
| kingdom. and that he is now in Paradise wal
ing to open the pearly gates for ne when
| ShoU ri,