Year: 1876

| was in Florence, stopping at the
Hotel d'Europe, when | one morning
walked out to visit the church of Santa
Croce 1t wasn't because | was in a
religious mood that went thither, but
every one visiting florence made it a
point to look upon the tomb of Michael
Angelo, so | considered it in order to
do as other tourists did. | suppose
spent half-hour in gazing about the
ediice, and observing all that was worthy
to be seen, when noticed handsome
young man saunteriDg down the aisle,
whom | had previously seen at my hotel
We arrived at the main door about the
same moment when he stopped, bowed
to me and introduced himself as Edward
Walpole, of Mississippi


One is, or ought to be, glad to meet
a low-countryman abroad, especially
if he be sociablc Mr.. Walpolc was ex-
tremely pleasant and well-informed, and
his society was desirable in many re-
spects. He was familiar with Italy very
obliging when any information was re-
quired, and was finished gentleman.


We took mutual fancy to each other,
and during my stay of three weeks in
Florence, we were constantly associated.
He was painter, poet and musician,
and made crcditablc name in all these
vocations. When we parted, he made
me promise that | would visit him at
his home the following year.


Circumstances prevented my fulfilling
my word, and eighteen months had pass
cd when | met him one day on the street
in st. Louis. When | parted from him
he possessed handsome, athletic form,
eyes flashing with animation, and coun-
tenance whereon the hues of health and
manly beauty had been mellowed by the
influence Of southern sun. He now
appeared thin aud pale, while shadow
of deep melancholy enshrouded his
features. His gaze, which used to make
me feel glad, now forced me to participate
in the wretchedness it expressed. He
was evidently suffering very deeply.


Good heavens" exclaimed, as /
grasped his hand ,'"what has caused this
fearful change? Have you been ill 2"


He seemed pleased at meeting me,
and sought to evade my question with a
forced laugh, and when | repeated it,
be replied that he was as we'll as usual.
He then changed the subject, and began
to talk of old times, and took me with
him to the boarding g-house where be was
stopping. A glace served to make me
sensible he was not living in the style
he did in Europe About his room
were many half-fnished pictures, a
secondhand Piano, and few books
thrown into a corner in disorder


His conversation generally ran upon
the days we passed abroad. He gave
me long and detailed account of the
places be bad visited after we had sepa-
rated, but when his narrative brought
him to his home, he stopped. Certain
ly there was something destroying the
life of Edward Walpole. Some secret
grief was eating away that noble heart,
and / was determined if there was any
thing that friendship could do to allevi-
ate his sufferiDgs, | would try and help
him. He seemed to have very few
friends in this city, and as he pressed me
earnestly to visit him daily, stopped to
see him accordingly. He used to sit
and paint while / read to him from the
poets, and when he was tired he would
60 to the piano and play those exquisite
operate airs of which he was SO fond


All this while / had been watching
him closely, but had never alluded to
his apparently failing health. Yet,
when was convicted that he was vast
ing away rapidly. | could no longer
keep silent, and determined at aay
risk to get at the knowledge Of the bid
den mischief, whose effects appeared
every day to be coming more dangerous.


One day when we were sitting to-
gether, laid aside the book | had been
reading to him. and said


my dear friend, it is evident that you
have a secret which is destroying your
peace of mind and health at the same
time. Pardon me. when say this, for
you must believe that l am influenced
By a regard for Jour welfare, and