fected the dazzling rays into the eyes of 
those who were gazing down in sorrow and 
awe, at the pitiable object before them. 
I stooped down, and lifted from its 
wretched resting place, a bright silver box, 
which, judging from its size and form had 
been designed as a receptacle for snuff, or 
tobacco. Mechanically, I touched the 
■pring of the tightly closed lid, and it flew 
open. The box contained but two closely 
folded papers, soiled and yellow from age 
and handling. One, I could see, was a 
letter, or a portion of a letter, and the 
other a newspaper clipping. Thinking that 
they might serve to identify the old man, 
or contain the address of some friend to 
whom I might communicate the intelli¬ 
gence of the old man’s fate, I closed the 
box and placed it in my pocket. 
A conveyance had been sent for, in which 
to remove the remains to the morgue; so, 
leaving two or three of the men to await 
its arrival, and assist in the removal, we 
•et out on our return, now that our sad 
mission was accomplished. 
Arrived at home, I bethought me of the 
box in my pocket. Taking out the stained 
and crumbled papers, I spread them on the 
table before me, and with no little difficulty, 
ascertained their contents. The newspaper 
elipping read as follows: 
Terrible Tragedy ! 
A terrible tragedy was enacted last 
night at the residence of our esteemed and 
honorable citizen, Ames McCourt, throw¬ 
ing over his family the deepest sorrow and 
gloom, and causing a fever of excitement 
in that usually quiet and peaceable locality. 
The shocking event that transpired last 
night, deprives the sorrow-stricken par¬ 
ents of an only son, the sister, a loving 
brother, and the community at large, a 
bright and promising light. As is well- 
known in the circle where Miss Annie 
McCourt, the accomplished daughter, has 
been a brilliant and loved member, she 
was engaged to be married to young Doc¬ 
tor Stacy Ainsworth, who has borne a high 
reputation socially and professionally. He 
had been in the habit of calling at the home 
of his affianced, informally, at such hours 
•f the evening as he could best be sparec 
from professional duties. The Doctor and 
;he brother had never met. The brother 
was not expected home from his tour 
abroad for several months; but to the 
great joy of the family, he arrived last 
night, and had been in the house some 
lours, when the Doctor, as was his wont, 
came into the parlor, unannounced, and 
found the brother and sister sitting arm-in¬ 
arm on a sofa, talking and laughing joy¬ 
ously together. This unexpected sight 
;hrew the Doctor into a fit of jealous rage, 
and, without awaiting an explanation, 
which his affianced sought to make, he 
fiercely demanded of the brother his right 
;o such privileges. The unreasonable con¬ 
duct of the Doctor nettled young McCourt 
beyond endurance, and he retorted that he 
had the better right of the two. 
“You are a liar, a liar!” shouted the 
Doctor. 
The hot blood of young McCourt could 
not brook this insult, and, pushing his sister 
aside, he sprang at his adversary. There 
was a short struggle, a sharp report, and 
the idolized brother lay ciying at his sister’s 
feet, slain by the hand of her lover! 
“Stacy! Stacy! you have killed my 
brother !” shrieked the terrified girl. 
With a wild cry of remorse, the slayer 
fled from the house; and up to the present 
hour, no clue has been obtained as to the 
direction of his flight. A reward of $100(1 
has been offered for his capture, and it is 
confidently expected that he will soon be 
brought back to face the results of his 
rash and bloody act. 
Harvey Ames McCourt breathed his last 
shortly after 7 o’clock this morning. He 
was conscious but a few minutes of the 
time that intervened between the hour of 
the shooting and his death. His last words 
were of forgiveness toward his slayer. 
The brief letter ran as follows: 
Richmond, Virginia, Jan. 12, 1842. 
Dear Stacy: 
Though you have wrecked 
my once happy home, you are still dear to 
me in memory. You plead for one more 
word from me, and I would to God that it 
might be a comforting one; but this is the 
sad reality: the terrible blow of Harvey’s 
death, carried father to the grave in a few 
few short months. Mother’s reason has 
fled from her forever; and the convent 
walls, offer a haven of rest and protection 
