Year: 1872

hho" ludt Inere are many COlu-
blooded and obtrusively moral people
who would have called it a cruel and
criminal act, yet l cannot help regret
ting that did not do it, Idoubt if any
court ofjustice, in view of my extreme
provocation, would have found me gull
ty of anything worse than justifiable,
temporary insanity; and 1 am conf.
dent that all right minded men, after
hearing the story of my wrongs, will
fully agree with me that / ought to
have done it.


The circumstances of the affair cannot
be presented in all their enormity un.
less the peculiar relation in which /
stood toward Dick Farrell is first fully
understood. 1t will, therefore, be nee
essary to go back to the period of my
first acquaintance with that individual.
L met him in this wise Undoubtedly
you remember the rocky ravine in
which is situated the town OF St. Jean
de Maurienne, formerly the terminus
on this side of Mont Cents, of the rail-
way from Paris to Turin. l had reach
ed this place one morning on my way
to Italy, and found that owing TO some
accidental delay, no diligence would
start to cross the mountain till evening.
Consequently, having several hours at
my disposal, l devoted them to an ex
ploration of the valley, and finally at.
tempted to climb up the steep face of
the northern side of the ravine.


Now, had never been good climb.
er, even in my boyhOod, and, as | was
at this time. more than-well, l was in
the prime of manhood, at all events
l ought to have known better than to
have made the attempt However, l
dld not know better, and SO laboriously
climbed up the precIpice until l found
myself on narrow ledge, where fur
ther progress upward became impossi-
bic. To my great annoyance l found,
too, that could not retrace my steps,
since any attempt to look down into
the valley, which lay some two hundred
feet below, made me exec ssively gid.
dy. AT this distance of time am will
ling to confess that / was decidedly
frightened as l though of the probabili-
ty of my remaining hopeless prisoner,
starving to death in full sight of the
hotel-which had an excellent table
dhote-and of the railway station.
Hope, which we are led TO believe
springs eternal in the human breast,
fortunately inspired me with the happy
thought of firing my revolver as sig
nal ofdistrese. No sooner had i acted
upon this idea than the entire popula-
tion of st. Jean appeared to become
simultaneously aware OF my position,
and flocked to the foot of the precipice
to watch my anxiously. expected fall.
Owing either to their natural stupidity,
or to their reluctance to spoil pros
pective tragedy, these people did not
make the slightest effort TO rescue me.
Finally, after they had waited two
| hours in the vain hope that would lose
my fOothold, they set up an idiotic
shout at the appearance of a young man
carrying a coil of rope on his shoulder.
Presently he disappeared, followed by
the greater part of the crowd and l
was about to resign myself TO despair
and an utterly hopeless attempt to
Chamber down the rock, when was de-
lighted by the reappearance of the
young man, who landed suddenly be-
side me, having been let down by a
rope from the top of the precipice.
"Now, old boy" he remarked, with
indecent familiarity, as he unfastened
the rope from about his waist, " let me
just fasten this round you, and you'll
be all right in couple of minutes. Tell
them not to forget me when you get
to the top, Tor l haven't had my din
ner yet !"


So saying, he tied the rope under my
arms, shook it as signal 10 those
above, encouraged me with theremark,
"steady, now, old fellow, and good
luck to you !" and calmly proceeded to
relight his cigar, while / was rapidly
hauled through the air to place of
safety.


This young man was Dick Farrell.


The rope was again let down, and he
soon made his appearance beside me.
Luckily he could speak French, of
" hich did not know single word,
and / appealed to him to rescue me
from the police, who had promptly ar
rested me on the charge of having at
tempted to commit suicide. Dicks per-
suasive oratory secured my release, and,
being thus doubly indebted to him, l
felt obliged to invite him to the hotel
and to dinner.


He proved to be painter of some
sort-I know nothing about art-on his
way to Rome, and, though he was in
the main honest, and always good item