Year: 1875

two young men volunteered, and even
these declared that they would not go
unless reinforced by others. And SO the
plan was postponed.


The next day was the day Of the
trial. The court house was crowded, the
Judge, the jury, the counsel, and the
prisoner all in their places. The pris-
oner looked pale, but quiet and resigned.
A breathless interest pervaded the as
sembly during the proceedings, until at
length the Judge commenced delivering
his address to the jury. Scarcely had
he spoken a dozen words when he was
interrupted by commotion without.


There was a rush, a confusion of cries
and exclamations and the next moment
there stalked into the court room, and
up towards the judges seat, the ghost
of the Gentry house, the form of the
murdered Harriet Gentry herself-the
identical form, with the identical face
which nearly the whole concourse had
seen lying stark and cold in death, and
then lowered into the grave, and covered
over with earth.


The excitement may be imagined.
All rose to their feet many shrank back,
and some fled. The ghost staggered
forward to the box in which sat the pris-
oner, laid its thin hand gently on his
shoulder, and turning its sunken eyes
upon the Judge, said, in hollow voice,
" He Is innocent It was not I who
was murdered"


"Who are you 2" inquired the Judge,
gravely for even he had been startled
by this unexpected apparition.


81 am Harriet Gentry-his wife I
left him, in pet of ill-temper, to go to
f,-,1 i. \
days ago, wet with the rain, tired and
i'll. 1 haven't been able to leave the
house since (; and all whom spoke to as
they passed the house, fled from me.
thought it was on account of my having
woman came in and told me everything.
I couldn't rest then. I got out of bed
and dressed, and came here"


She spoke these words with difficulty,
occasionally pressing her hand to her
throat, as though it panied her, and
was more than once interrupted by fit
of coughing, such as one may have who
is suffering from violent cold and sore
throat.


To describe the excitement produced
by this scene would defy description. 1t
was soon made evident that the woman



and breathing Harriet Gentry. Yet, in
this case, who was the murdered woman
Had ghost itself appeared in court, it
could not have occasioned more astonish-
ment and bewilderment than was pre-
sented in this simple question. The
perfect resemblance of this corpse, in
form and feature, to Harriet Gentry had
been in itself sufficient to justify every
person who knew her in swearing that it
was hers !; and the identity had been
corroborated by the shawl in which the
body had been found wrapped and the
rope about its neck, corresponding so
exactly with the clothes-line in Gentry's
house, and the knife on the floor, show
ing in what manner the rope had been
cut. Yet here was Harriet alive while
score of persons had seen the body of
the murdered woman buried in the old
churchyard, where the grave still was
as Arranged on the day of her burial,
and presenting no appearance of having
been since disturbed.


Captain Gentry was, of course, at once
set at liberty, and accompanied his wife
home, where he remained, amusing and
attending her with assiduous care. Har-
rlet was for some weeks very ill; and, as
she slowly mended, people were sur
prised to find how changed in disposi-
tion she ,appeared-how patient and
quiet, and how unwontedly gentle to-
wards her husband. But the truth was,
that she had received great shock in the
circumstances above related; and, re-
fiecting how nearly she had been the
cause of the death of her husband, who,
but for her timely appearance, must as
suredly have been hanged for crime he
had not committed, her heart was soft
ened towards him. She had, beneath all
her irritability, real regard for her hus-
band; and, being in the main we'll
meaning woman, it had needed only this
to open her eyes to her own faults, and
work reformation in both temper and
tongue. And, from this time forth,
Captain Ezra found himself a much
happier man than he had ever before
been.


Just ten years after the events here
related, Father Brian, a priest, in Wheel
ing, was summoned at midnight to visit
man who, the physician said, had not
many hours to live. He called himself
Gustave Weimar; and the following was
the confession which, on his deathbed,
he made to the good priest


About twelve years previous, he said,
he had met in London young woman
who went by the name of Matilda Roche,
whom he had married. The union was
not happy one. Matilda was pretty
and vain, and her husband Jealous.