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when they followed in the long ancestral say? I keep thinking I hear him, and then 
train. When he could no longer endure his nothing comes. Hark! there are steps;” 
solitary rousing, he determined to consult his and Bessie moved to the window to gee 
old and valued fHend, and from his lips hear what was corning near in the blackness 
his sentence of life or death. without ; but she drew back trembling, as a 
All through the day, before the appointed loud peal sounded through the still house, 
meeting, he had been in a sort of dream, "lie’s not dead, inarm, really now,” said 
continually alternating between extremes of the rough voice, softened into compassion, 
hope and despair. He had transacted his 
usual business; made iris accounts correct; 
gone home and returned; passed the pack¬ 
ages ol yellow gold accurately through his 
hands; made up the right amount of bills; 
but all in a mechanical, pre-occupie«l way, 
that showed his thoughts were traveling far 
beyond his day-book anil tlie four walls that 
bounded his vision. 
Never before had his clerks known him to 
be so utterly oblivious of stranger eyes; but 
“they hoped no harm would come of it,” as, 
contrary to all precedent, Mr. W. counted 
out the money he was prepitring to take 
home with him, and stowed it away in his 
pockets, while curious faces were watching 
him and noting where he put it. For all 
sorts of people happen into a bank in the 
course of the day; some really because they 
have business there — honest countrymen, 
bringing their books to add another "ten” 
to the hard-earned savings; wealthy stock¬ 
holders, to see how high the shares are now, 
and crowds to sell their coupons or cash their 
notes. But others go back and forth from 
an idle, restless purpose, or for no good end 
at all. 1 
The day was done now, and they were all 1 
gone. The dreaded consultation was over, 
and Mr. Wn.MF.it was looking at the ashes 1 
of his dead hopes, and conjuring up every ' 
sad image of despair. Suddenly lie roused 1 
himself from his musing, and started, as he * 
saw the dock, exclaiming, “ After eleven ! 
What will wife and Bessie think lias be- f 
come of me? I ought to be ashamed to < 
frighten them so; but ugh I it is an ugly 1 
night to be out in. Well, well, I must go." • 
And he buttoned his great coat securely up ! 
t@ his chin, planted his hat firmly on his t 
head, and with his umbrella sallied forth < 
from his office. The wind was cold and < 
raw, and blew so fiercely he found the tint- 11 
brella was useless. Any other time he would 1 
have taken it ns a means of defence in case * 
of need, walking alone in a large city, at a 1 
late hour, with so much money about him. t 
But now he only said :—“ It’s nothing but a t 
disagreeable drizzle, and this is in my way,” 
and so stepped back and left it in the entry. 8 
“ Thou makest darkness, and it was dark,” 8 
thought Mr. Wilmer, as he plodded wearily 1 
along, guided more by his sense of feeling 
and perfect knowledge of all localities, than 1 
by the faint light that streamed from the few 8 
street lamps. “ I believe 1 know, now,what. 1 
utter darkness is.” But he was too much 8 
engrossed by the one subject that tilled his 
mind to notice the weather very long; and a 
his rushing thoughts look this form: n 
“ Life, that is so dear a boon to me, to be n 
given up thus early! My life that has been o 
so full of j(> 3 r ,—to blot it out from the face of 
the earth,—dead ere. my prime ! No, it can- v 
not be. The Maker of all will surely hear 
the cry of some weary one who longs for 
release, and spare me a little longer, i am not 
ready yet; 1 cannot leave all 1 love so soon.” e: 
Any other time Ml*. W. would have heard !l 
the echoing footsteps that were steadily fol- *' 
lowing him, — would have seen the dark C( 
shadow that glanced by the lamps from u 
street to street; but now lie heeded nothing, g 
save that the distance between him and 
home was gradually growing less. As he “ 
turned the corner of thq street, ihe bright l 
light flashed across his face, and he raised si 
his head to assure himself he was not astray w 
when a heavy blow struck him on the fore- sc 
head, and sent him reeling from the sidewalk, in 
He was stunned for an instant, .and a faint- C( 
ness came over him; but the quick reaction ol 
from his silent despondency gave him new 
life, and he sprung to his feet just in time to Y ( 
parry the second blow. It struck his left at 
arm, that he raised to protect his head, with > V( 
such intense force that it seemed shattered, ar 
but his right still remained. Mr, Wilmer ^ 
was of medium height, very slender, and not sa 
strong; but he could not stop to calculate 
the superior strength ot his secret foe, as 
with a loud call for help, lie stood on the de¬ 
fensive. It was life or death with him; the 
struggle was desperate; and as he closed ll: 
with the powerfully built man, lie felt his m 
momentary strength fail, and fell heavily to P 1 
the ground, just as aid was coining to him. 
With a muttered path at his defeat, the ^ 
would-be assassin shot off in the darkness, * )e 
as the watchmen approached. to 
“ Why, Bill, it’s Mr. WELMER! and, look ^ 01 
here, he’s dead. No, lie isn’t. Lend a hand, ^ 
some of you, and carry him home. Who uo 
ever ’twas, didn’t get what he was after, for Hn 
his money’s all safe here in his pocket. Two ,a 
as he looked aL the face that bore a death¬ 
like resemblance to that of the one they 
carried. "A kind of an accident,” he mut¬ 
tered, in answer to the mute inquiry in her 
eyes. "We’ll tell you about it by’m-by, 
marm; and now I’ll go for the doctor, for 
that’s the most I can do for ye.” And the 
drew his chair nearer the hearth, and his 
wife and child sat near him. 
“ What is it you have done ? You would 
not alarm us needlessly ? ” 
"No, Mary;. but the truth of it is, I am 
pursued by a fear that harm will come to us 
out of this night’s work. But 1 will tell you 
all.” He went on hesitatingly, hut with a 
manly effort to confess his wrong-doing. “ No 
need to tell you where we all were,—up at 
John’s, having a good time, as I called it. 
The wine was gone, and the poorest of poor 
stuff was brought out to us, and that made 
me angry. So I said 1 wouldn’t, stay, and 
got up and left early, for me. I had taken 
out those, sir, ” and he pushed aside the iron 
bands the officer took from his pocket. 
" Well, Tiiafton, I’m sorry for you, for 
it’s a pretty bad case against you. You 
haven’t had the best of reputations lately, but 
1 never thought ’twoulcl come to this.” 
briefly told. The real criminal is my brother,” 
and he averted his head as he spoke. “The 
wretched man lives here under an assumed 
name. He struck the blow at your life, for 
your money. When T discovered bis guilt, 
and demanded what prompted him to this 
William turned to his wife, who sat as if last bad act, be gave an excuse that he want- 
stunned, with Nell in her lap, her great i ed to leave the country to begin a better life. 
eyes growing larger every moment, and 
said,—“ Keep up a good heart, Mart. We 
may be happy yet, for you know I am inno¬ 
cent. If I never come back ”—and here he 
broke down, and the men hurried him away. 
I have kept, this concealed, and he was safe 
solely on the condition that he made no effort 
to escape till the trial was over. Now he is 
completely at your mercy.” 
"My friend,” Mr. Wilmer replied, “I 
It is needless for us to tell the anguish of thank you that you have cleared the inno¬ 
mother and daughter -were left with the just enough to make me mad with every- 
shadow of death overwhelming them. body; and as I was hurrying home to vent 
„ my spite on you, I saw one of the fellows 
CHAPTER II. 
In another part of the city, at the same 
hour, a husband and father returned home 
after his day’s absence. The house that lie 
entered was poor and small, and it showed 
signs of decay, as if no careful hand strove 
to keep it tight and comfortable; but within, 
all was scrupulously neat, even to the old, 
thin curtains, darned till they were a perfect 
network of embroidery, and hovering over 
the dying embers of the fire, sat two people,— 
a mother and daughter, — as in the other 
home we entered. Patient sadness rested on 
each face,—that meek endurance which is 
many a woman’s life-long portion. But the 
mother’s face was more gentle, more resigned, 
as though she had found it useless to strug¬ 
gle any longer, and accepted her destiny 
without a murmur, because God sent it; but 
the girl's was more hopeful, as il she still be¬ 
lieved the wish of her heart would be grant¬ 
ed,—perhaps not now, but some time ere she 
should lie down in the grave. 
They both started, as the heavy step 
sounded through Ihe narrow entry, and as it 
came unsteadily on, the girl glanced at her 
mother with an earnest,, pitying look. The 
door was flung open, and the expected visit- 
tint entered the room and threw himself into 
the nearest chair without a word. His face 
was not unprepossessing, and looked capable 
ol noble things; but his careless appearance, 
and the wildness in his eye, showed that the 
demon of many a household was stealing 
from him the vigor of his manhood. Yet 
his strong, well-knit frame made one think 
that poverty need not approach his door, if 
there were willing hands to work. 
The girl, in expectation of cruel words or 
some harsher token of his presence, seemed 
surprised that the silence was unbroken. At 
last she spoke: * 
" Father, we’ve tried to keep your supper 
hot, but the wood’s all gone, and Mr. Ames 
says you shall not have any more till you 
pay for the other. We’ve waited for you, 
and l feel hungry. Shall we.have it now?” 
“ Vcs, get your supper. 1 don’t want 
any,” mumbled the answering voice. Then 
more kindly, “ I am sorry you waited for 
me. What else did Mr. Ames say ? Come, 
out with it.” 
“Oh, I can’t, father, .you’ll be so angry 
with me, and I didn't make him any answer.” 
" 1 wish to hear, child.” 
With a trembling voice, Nell began: 
“ He said —he said —a great deal that J 
can’t remember; that drink was ruining you 
that I thought 1 knew passing the gas-post. 
The fiend possessed me at that moment to 
give him a blow and jmy up old scores; so, 
as lie came by where I was, 1 gave him one, 
hard enough to frighten him, and then sprang 
away, for I found I had mistaken my man. 
I am certain I heard him say something, and 
start after me; but I came along pretty fast. 
“I should have forgotten it; but as I 
turned the comer, 1 heard a noise of shuffling 
feet, and a body was carried past me, and 
they were talking about robbery and mur¬ 
der. I made out that, some one had knocked 
down the cashier of the bank, but that help 
reached him before anything was lost. A 
dead chill struck my heart, for, somehow, I 
cannot separate this from my evil deed; 
though Goo knows 1 have told you the 
truth, and have killed no man. But 1 see 
now what I might have done, if T had taken 
one glass more. 1 shudder when I look 
back upon these three years of my life.” 
" Alt, father, you seem like yourself now; 
like the dear, good father, who came home 
every night to make U9 so happy. We shall 
not be poor any more, if you leave those 
horrid men and stay with us.” 
“ Yes, dear, by God’s help I will try to 
begin a new life. But good-night now, it is 
very late.” 
When the child had gone, lie turned to 
liis wife: 
“Ah, Mary, you cannot know how hard 
the struggle will be. This terrible thirst has 
become a mania with me. I am a slave to 
it. Give me one taste, and 1 cannot quench 
the fire that will be fed; but you shall be 
the help-meet you have always been. You 
will keep tne from it, for I do not pull against 
you any longer. God grant that nothing 
worse come from my night’s work.” 
“William, it is His warning, and you 
will heed it, and we will together build up a 
better life on the ruins of the old,” she sol¬ 
emnly replied. 
Mary’s heart during those weeks of waiting. 
She was ignorant of the ways of the law, 
and scarcely knew what she feared, till in 
one of her visits to William’s cell he told 
her it could be nothing better than imprison¬ 
ment for life, if lie was found guilty. Then 
the full tide of her sorrow burst upon her; 
but, spite ol' the darkness, she tried to believe 
that, light would come for them, and that He 
cent You shall not repent it;” and re¬ 
turned to the court-room, where the people 
eagerly awaited his disclosure. 
But they were doomed to disappointment, 
as he simply said :—“ The guilty man is dis¬ 
covered ; and I rejoice to add that 1 am fully 
convinced Mr. Trafton had no part nor lot 
in the matter.” 
The judge did not finish bis speech; and 
who knowoth all men's hearts would make the jury, without leaving their seats, returned 
CHAPTER III. 
A week later William came in from work 
with a very different step from the time we 
first saw him. His face was stronger, nobler, 
and his whole air showed that the man 
within him was wakening from his long 
sleep; yet a settled sadness rested upon him. 
“ Mary,” he said, “ Mr. Wilmer is going 
to live, they say. His life hung in the bal¬ 
ance for days; but he is slowly recovering. 
I wish I knew what he looked like; for the 
likeness of the man I struck is indelibly 
and making us poor; that you were one of printed on my mind, and I want to be satis- 
his best workmen, and that no one could fied it was not he.” 
command higher wages, if you would give 
up that —oh ! I can’t tell it, father,” and the 
girl burst into tears. 
“William,” said bis wife, sorrow fully. 
" Why, William, you seem to be more 
troubled about this than 1 am. You know 
it was at least a quarter of an hour after you 
dealt the blow, that this man was carried 
“ he said what I told you a yeurMgo — wluit past j r ou; and you know the papers say help 
1 have never ventured to say since, for fear I 
should drive you on more recklessly. 1 
would not. make your home a continual 
scene of reproaches and tears; yet they are 
in my heart all the while. 1 have said all I 
could, and then hoped that if we tried to do 
our best we should win you back. Think 
how happy we were three years ago, before 
you fell in with that had set; and now look 
at your home, and at. us. Mr. Ames said 
you would become a curse to your family; 
and every one but you sees bow poor little 
Nell is sinking under it. She is not the 
same child; and it is the disgrace that has 
done it.” 
Thu man groaned aloud. 
“ Oh, if you would once promise to leave 
that hateful drink I know we should be 
happy again. Tt seems as if you would hear 
me to-night; won’t you?” And she ap¬ 
proached him timidly. 
“ Hear you ? Yes, 1 will, because 1 must. 
Mary, I’m a brute. Now, when there may 
be no chance to reform, I first begin to listen 
to you. But you don’t know; you can’t tell; 
for you have never been the besotted wretch 
that I have. You see, I’m sober enough 
now, for I’ve something to tell you. Here! ” 
ami lie threw out a five dollar bill on the 
table, “ that’s all 1 have left of my month's 
came to him on the instant, so ihat the assas¬ 
sin had hardly time to escape. I should 
think that was enough for you.” 
“ It. ought to be; but I believe I am sus¬ 
pected. My old boon companions turn 
against, me, because 1 deserted them; and I 
have.heard strange whispers all round the 
room to-day. They say I left them just at 
the time, and that Mr. Wilmkr’s imperfect 
description of the man answers to me. In¬ 
deed, all the circumstances are against me; 
and if I gave my own testimony, that would 
be still more unfavorable. Should I be ar¬ 
rested, 1 can trust to God and my own con¬ 
science alone to clear me. Don’t you sec, f 
told you I should not. be with you long to 
prove the sincerity of my repentance ? Sin 
must have its punishment; and I have been 
an unfeeling wretch to 3 * 011 . Now you will 
be left in peace. 1 had a presentiment that 
that night would be fatal to me.” 
“ Why, father, you are kinder eveiy day, 
and we love you more and more. What do 
you mean about going away from us?” 
Before lie could reply, there was a loud 
knock at the door, aud two men entered the 
room, one with a written paper in his hand. 
He came towards Mr. Trafton, saying: 
“ It becomes my painful duty (0 tell you 
tnat I have here a warrant for the arrest of 
\)f you just go down that alley and see where pay, and we can’t freeze here; so Nell, just one Wm. Trafton, for assault upon Mr. room. The moment they were alone, Mr. 
the fellow went, if you can.” £° t0 Jackson’s pile, and bring some wood Wilmer, a citizen of this place, with the in- H. grasped his hand with an agonized' pres- 
tenderly, as if he had been an infant, the U) kc ‘‘P 118 waviu > a »d your mother can give tent to rob and murder. You are my prls- sure as he said: 
menWsed the insensible form in their arms, him the money in the morning.” oner, sir.” and he laid a heavy hand upon “ Wilmer, don't think me a wretch and 
and hiVicd towards Federal street. ^® a ^ ^ minutes a genial warmth was W^illiam s shoulder. poltroon for keeping silent so long! I have 
- shed through the room, and more of a tender “ God is witness that I am not guilty of believed till now that Trafton would be 
Uu, mtnqma! lie’s so long, I know some- glow on the occupants’ faces than had been the crime laid to my charge,” replied Wil- cleared in some way; but I cannot see an 
tnmg must lixye happened. What do you there for many a long month. The father liam; “but I will follow you quietly Ruth- innocent man condemned. My story is 
l her husband’s innocence as clear as noonday, 
. at last. If not—but she could not face the 
i dreadful alternative. 
' The months sped by till the February term 
1 drew near, and the lust day of the trial came, 
- when the summing up of the evidence was 
I to be taken, and the verdict rendered. The 
) court-room was densely crowded. There 
- was little of that eager excitement which 
( uncertainty always lends to a case, for but 
; one opinion prevailed as to the decision. 
The prisoner in the dock had not the air 
’ of a guilty man, and Mr Wilmer looked at 
1 the fine, open countenance with puzzled eyes, 
as if wondering whether such a man would 
try to murder him. He himself was pale from 
his long confinement, and there was a dark 
: senr on one side of his temple, that showed 
how nearl 3 r fatal the blow was. At his side, 
near the judge’s stand, sat Mr. 11., a partic¬ 
ular friend of his, who had evinced great 
interest in the trial from the beginning, and 
who now seemed unusually excited near its 
close. 
In the back of the gallery you might have 
seen a slender, shrinking figure, whose sad 
eyes scanned the faces of lawyers and jury, 
and who drank In eveiy word of hope dropped 
by the thoughtless crowd. Whenever she 
bent her gaze upon the prisoner she seemed 
to gain new courage, and a s®rt of peace 
that before appeared foreign to her. 
But it is drawing toward noon, and the 
judge is speaking. 
“Gentlemen of the juiy, this is a strange 
and perplexing case, ami there is little evi¬ 
dence. to guide you in your decision. Your 
witnesses are all examined. They are few, 
and their testimony is feeble. Out of his 
own mouth the prisoner is condemned, more 
than by any other testimony. He, William 
Trafton, on the night of Nov. 22 d, left a 
party of friends assembled at the Park House, 
in anger at something that had occurred, his 
brain inflamed by wine. It was then a short 
time before eleven o’clock, as all testify. 
From that moment nothing certain is known 
of him but what he says himself. Previous 
to the trial, he confessed that, alter leaving 
the house he rushed on, blinded by passion, 
f ill lie passed one whom he believed an ac¬ 
quaintance, and recklessly struck him be¬ 
fore lie saw bis mistake. His description of 
the man answers to that of our valued citi¬ 
zen, Mr. Wilmer, —' of medium height, pale 
face, light hair, and long, light beard, dressed 
in a heavy, brown overcoat.’ These were 
Tkafton’s words; though since lie has seen 
Mr. W., he affirms that he is not the man he 
struck. Trafton reaches home at a quarter 
past eleven o’clock; and at the same hour 
Mr. W., seriously injured, is carried to his 
residence in Federal street. The attack 
upon Mr. AY. was so sudden lie can tell little 
of the appearance of his assailant, but that 
he was a strong, heavily built man. Mr. W. 
was struck several times, and grappled with 
his foe before assistance came. This does 
not tally with T.’s account. That day large 
sums of money were brought into the bank ; 
Mr W. says his mind was so pre-occupied 
he did not notice who went back and forth. 
He had a considerable amount on his person 
as he was returning home, and it would 
seem that robbery, and, if necessary, murder, 
was intended. It remains for you, gentle¬ 
men, to decide whether the prisoner can be 
found guilty on the evidence. We-” 
There was a quick w hisper, aud a slight 
disturbance near Mr. Whaler's chair, and 
he rose to speak. 
“ 1 beg the pardon of the Court for my 
interruption at this juncture; but an im- . 
port ant communication has just been made 
to me which changes the whole aspect of 
the case; and I ask that we have a short re- i 
cess that I may understand it more fully.” < 
The judge bowed in acquiescence, and < 
Mr. Wilmer with his friend Mr. H. left the : 
room. The moment they were alone, Mr. * 
H. grasped his hand with an agonized pres- 1 
sure as he said: s 
“Wilmer, don’t think me a wretch and 1 
poltroon for keeping silent so long! I have t 
a unanimous verdict of “Not Guilty ” 
We need not tell the joy in one home, 
that night, where William Trafton was 
restored to the fireside group, bright now as 
in the olden days. He was truly restored to 
them, from the fear of a drcadftil sentence, 
and from the worse doom of the broad way 
that lcadeth unto death. The old love-light 
shone on every face as they looked down 
the pathway of the coming years, made glad 
l»y new and earnest hopes. 
Mr. Wilmer allowed his friend’s brother 
to leave the country; and to this day no one 
knows who his assailant was. He is very 
cautious now in judging, even when appear¬ 
ances present the st rongest evidence of guilt. 
[ocial (Topics. 
THE HOME TEACHING. 
“ Some parents,” observes a very sensible 
writer, “ speak of beginning the education of 
their children. The moment they were 
capable of forming an idea that education, 
which, like insensible perspiration, is of 
more constant and powerful effect, and of 
far more consequence to the habit than that 
which is direct and apparent, begins. This 
education goes on at every instant of time; it 
goes on like time; you can neither stop 
it nor turn its course.” 
Another, remarking upon the same sub¬ 
ject, truly says: — “ Bight, teaching includes 
the instruction both of precept and example; 
the former will probably be worse than lost, 
if not enforced by llic latter. The instruction 
of the lips should not, in nty judgment, be 
given so much at stated seasons or in set 
phrase^ as ever and anon, familiarly and 
incidentally. The parent’s lips should keep 
knowledge. His doctrine should ‘ drop as 
the rain, and his speech distil as the dew, 
as the small rain upon the tender herb and 
as showers upon the grass.’ ” 
-- 
WEDDINGS IN CHINA. 
Toe children of the Flowery Kingdom 
expend vast sums in wedding ceremonies. 
The most costly presents are showered upon 
the brides and bridegrooms, and days and 
days are devoted to feast making and revelry. 
The bridal chambers are ornamented and 
decorated regardless of cost. When every¬ 
thing is in readiness, the bride, who pre¬ 
viously has had her eyebrows pulled out, 
that she may forever afterward be dis¬ 
tinguished from the virgins, is borne in a 
highly ornamented bridal car to the borne of 
her future husband, where the marriage cer¬ 
emony is performed by any number of 
priests and assistants. The bulk of the 
expenses thus incurred falls upon the bride¬ 
groom, who, therefore, not unfrequently 
finds himself in bonds not alone matri¬ 
monial. 
-- 
Piety at Home. —Religion is majestic in 
the State ; it may be grand in the church,— 
in the church building a great institution, in 
the State swaying the destinies of millions of 
men. But piety looks lovelier and sweeter 
at home; not arrayed in her court dress, not 
set off in her church regimentals, but dressed 
in her homely, week-day, work-day clothes. 
It is a little striking that the word piety 
which so often reigns in the Christian Church 
is mentioned only once in the English Bible, 
and then coupled with the admonition to 
show itself first at home.— Theo. Parker. 
Man’s Duty—No man has any right to 
manage his affaire in such a way that his sud¬ 
den death would bring burdens and losses on 
other people. Tb ere may be ra re cases where 
a man really cannot help entanglements, or 
where, from inexperience or lack of judg¬ 
ment, he hits brought liis affairs into such a 
state that the interest of others depends upon 
his life; but he should make all possible haste 
to extricate himself from such, a position. 
Glare and gaudiness in dress are ever to 
be scrupulously avoided. 
