"Stop the murderer," cried a weak voice-it was many statues of the great and illustrious ones of the that of the old nurse. church. Surmounted in a niche, at the centre of the "Blood is upon his skirts," shouted another, who chapel, towered the colossal shape of its patron saint. had heard her version of the event. "Down with him," screamed a little ruffian. It was of the purest marble and the nicest sculpture. “To the trial with him," suggested a peaceable citi-ness of changes and crimes. Wave had chased wave zen. Not a voice reiterated it. upon the ocean-tide of despotism-armies had swept by it, and beneath it had been heard the shock of batIttles-yet there had it stood, dark and solemn, upon its silent and unmoved throne, a relic from the abyss of past ages. "Life for life!" "Blood for blood !" echoed a hundred voices at once, as the voice of a single man. was caught up in the distance, and now it burst from every lip like the response of a thousand demons, rolling from earth to heaven, and dying away but in the thick willows of the distant Seine: "Blood for blood!" The curses, the yells, the shouts from lips that knew nothing of the affair, were deafening. Action, from a hasty impulse, guided that lawless mob, who had dethroned their monarch, and erected above the ruin a power withering in its aims, and blighting in its deepening despotism the hopes and aspirations of a brave and noble people; to whom the very name of LIBERTY has been, and ever will remain, a nucleus around which clusters all that is beautiful in their natures; but who, alas! for their blood-stained vineyards and desecrated temples, have never worshipped aught save the semblance of the pure gold of the shrine, adulterated by human passion and unholy ambition! A body of guards were soon on the ground, with burnished arms and floating plumes, and martial accoutrements; but, alas for their untried valor! alas for their chivalry! they towered with a giant's strength in peace, and shrank to their cowardly bosoms before the glances of a ruffian mob. Even as the priest gazed in adoration upon it, lo! the statue came topling down, and fell at his feet crushed into a thousand atoms. The cause was never known; but, from what followed, it is presumed that it was the work of an unseen hand. A loud laugh drew his attention to a very young man, the same who had cheered the horseman, and who now scorned the priest. He rushed towards the one whom he supposed the offender. His eyes flashed, his check scorched, and his whole face was lit up with a holy enthusiasm. The secret cloister and the silent cell had failed to cool, and had but smothered his passions-they leaped forth now with a new life and vigor. He approached the young man-was near him-stood before him: in one moment more, and lo! the torch was lit that flashed upon his funeral pyre! "Down with priestcraft!" shouted a single voice, so thrilling that it touched every heart and was echoed by every lip. The young revolutionist had by one cry nerved a hundred arms. The priest was hurled to the earth-the uplifted dagger was sheathed in his heart— and in a few moments, as the crowd swept over it, that form had been trodden to the clay from whence it sprang. This was but the beginning of the end; for his death was the signal for an attack on the neighboring chapels by the bloodthirsty mob. The friendless horseman saw his danger. He knew that his life hung upon a brittle thread, which might in the next second be severed. Yet he was undaunted. His form seemed to increase; and his face, generally so calm and passionless, assumed a deeper flush than its wont, as the danger became more imminent. He looked abroad upon that vast crowd, who had not as yet committed any violence, but rocked to and fro like the waves of an ocean yawning for the fragile barque that was to be engulphed there; and his glance breathed of defiance, and the smile that lingered for a momented flag of infidelity floated in triumph from their turrets about his lip was one of derision. As the moon rose above the distant mountains on that evening, the chaunt of priests had ceased-the consecrated lights were out-the solemn chime of holy bells was no longer heard. The sacred temples had been plundered of their statues and divinities-the loud laugh echoed in the holy of holies, and the blood-stain and spires. The eternal faith had been hurled from its throne of ages! At this juncture a voice whispered in his ear, "Despair not!" Turning in surprise, he beheld in the A moment after the assassination, the mad shout of speaker a young man of singular appearance, whom he the revolutionists still ringing in his ears, our traveller had never seen before. He had scarce whispered the turned and found himself alone. In another moment words ere he disappeared. He could have been seen the young stranger was at his side. "Fly, fly, or I threading his way through the dense crowd towards a know not who may be the next victim," exclaimed he. chapel near at hand, of ancient but blackened architec-The mob, the cheering words, the stranger, the murder, ture. Near its door, from which (attracted by the noise without) he had just emerged, stood a venerable priest. “Mother of God! what a spectacle!" cried the reverend father, as his attention was directed to the populace who surrounded the horseman. Well did he know the voice of that mob-it had frozen his own blood by its appalling tones before. "People of Paris, what would ye? What inhumanity is this, and to a stranger? Beware of your actions, lest ye bring down the anathemas of the holy faith and the denunciations of the church?" The people moved towards him-as they did so, he heard not, or did not notice, their murmurs. Elated with the prospect of awing them, he turned towards the chapel, in appropriate parts of which could be seen all rushed before him. The veil was torn from the mystery. The truth flashed upon him. To save him, the unknown young man had drawn the attention of the populace to another point. "To whom do I owe my safety ?" asked he-but on turning to where the stranger stood, he could not see him. He moved not, he spoke not, he breathed not. Was it not all a dream, a vision? Suddenly he recovered. The cry of the mob scarcely heard, the street cleared, despair nerved him. His mission to Paris was not attained. The shout of the mob neared him; but he was far distant when they returned. Thus entered Francis Armine into Paris. When the mantle of night was cast upon the earth, he was sitting in a small room in the suburbs of that city. His mind was unusually gloomy and abstracted. He moved to the window—all without was still. The blue heavens | gardens, to wander forth and breathe the perfumed air, were sparkling with the light of many stars, and the should it fail to draw from the recesses of the mind all young moon, "regent of the night," reflected its beams that is beautiful or vivid there, they will remain dorupon the quiet Parisian city. As he retired, he opened mant forever. Whether this may be attributed to the a delicate locket, which contained some rich and jetty sky, with its shifting and fleecy clouds that even melt hair, and as he gazed upon it a strain of music from a into the deep azure as we gaze upon them-to the air, distant band of serenaders swept along. And sad and pregnant with] the perfume of flowers-or to the ver melancholy were his musings as he listened; for they dant earth-or to a transfusion of the whole, the mind were of the past. Before him appeared his youthful is elevated to a brighter sphere than its wont-to a sister, the beautiful and lost-his distant home-the dreamlike enchantment, where it can revel in all that is green earth and sparkling streams of that home-and, exquisite or passionate in that Elysium receptacle, the glowing above all, was the violet sky of his own beau- imagination. tiful Italy! The unrivalled climate, the rainbow tinted skies, the transparent waters, the white walled villas that rise on its golden banks, combine to render its "peaceful hermitage" a most desirable retreat. And it was there that the poet touched his heaven-strung lyre, and awoke strains more immortal than the warrior's blood-bought name. It is there that amid the green groves played the glittering waters of Pliny's cooling fountain, and there stands the terrace where he gazed upon the sun as it peered above the blue and misty hills or sank beneath the distant horizon. It is there that the rich music and the graceful poetry of Italy come like hallowed dreams to the wandering pilgrim. At an early age Armine's parents died, leaving himself and his sister alone, though not friendless, upon the world. His boyhood had been a mixture of pleasure and study; not too much of the former to unfit his mind for the intense study of after years, nor too much of study to nauseate the taste and vitiate the youthful intellect, rendering the object unprepared and unwilling to prosecute the higher and more tedious branches of education. It was a nice blending of the two, such as is to be observed in that of the opposite colors of the rainbow, distinct in shade, but not so in the mingled and delicate pencilling of each rich hue, When I said that he was an Italian, a description of the gradual development of his intellect might be deemed a superfluous waste of words. For there is a something in the air, and earth and sky of that lovely clime, that kindles, elevates and refines the mind. When the veil of twilight is cast over the earth, with its deep vallics, its fragrant groves and its luxuriant Armine's education was simple, not complicated. He had studied well the writings of his own countrymen, before he sought those of other lands. He did not dive into the sea of classic learning ere he had skimmed over the calmer stream of a common education. He well knew the present, before he ventured into the dim regions of the past. What to the untutored mind are the lessons of the bygone? What Egypt's mystic and venerated learning? What the classic literature of Greece, or the untouched shelves of oriental Persia? The eagle, if he would soar to the clouds or bathe his plumage in the dews of heaven, must strengthen his wing upon the eyry ere he succeeds; and the mind, too, with all its gigantic powers, must slowly unfold them, at first the cradle, and then the unfettered tread, so closely does the mind resemble the body. He travelled; for though Italy was once illustrious, once mistress of learning, she was then but the phantom of her former self. He travelled into other lands, and he penetrated still farther into the inner temple of intel ligence. At last the lightning burst from its imprisoning cloud-chaos disappeared-he possessed the great gift, "That ocean to the rivers of the mind." His mind was peopled with the star-bright fancies, the seraph-winged thoughts, the "moving delicate" creations" of the poet, with no obstacle to his wanderings, no pinion to his conceptions. The pure and holy fires of genius were kindled, and threw abroad their animating and inspiring rays. that And fame, though it is but the foam that glitters a moment upon the wave and then dissolves, clustered around his name and promised to it immortality. Little did he then imagine the impenetrable mystery would cloud his life and moulder away the dreams and visions that youth and poetry had consecrated. What are the eagle-plumed hopes, the golden aspirations of the human heart, that, like the snow-flake, a single breath can melt? His sister's love was as the first rosy star that beamed upon his path. She was very beautiful-a dowry which to some is accompanied with innocence and happiness, and to others the fatal companion of vice and shame. To which of these Genevieve Armine was destined, the after events of these pages will serve to delineate. Her brother loved her. She was to him as a gentle spirit from another world sent to cheer him on his pathway-so pure, so chaste, so lovely, so like an angelin form so symmetrical, in mind so rare and chaste. When pondering over the musty volume in his study, or delineating on his page the beautiful creations that thronged his brain, her light tap could be heard at the door, and her soft voice would ask to gain admittance there. And then she would bound in, and on his lap would he then breathe into her mind the divinity that hovered around his own, watching its dawn and development with a miser's care. Hours, days, weeks, months and years elapsed, and she was not heard from. All was deep mystery. Messengers were scattered over the continent, and wealth exhausted, but the least clue had not been found to solve the mystery. Such measures appeared to have been taken as to render the search in vain. Her every action was as a spell to him. Her form seemed rather the animation of a dream, and her rich and musical voice sweeter than the first spring gale. Together they had often wandered along the level Her brother could not move a step without thinking champaign and climbed the neighboring hills. At of her-he could not remain where she had been-he morning's freshest hour, they could be seen in the longed for an escape from thought; for it was a pain to shady grove above the tombs of their parents, perchance think, to live. He closed his villa on the Como, and to drop a tear or breathe a prayer to the memory of the travelled, where he knew not, he cared not. The same departed; and at evening they were sailing on the crys-to him were clouds and sunshine, day and night, peace tal bosom of Como, when along its waters were mir- and turmoil. A dim and sepulchral void was in his rored the light of many stars or the beams of the cres- heart. The cent moon; and later, when all was calm and still around, they were at their door watching the deep blue heavens or singling from the stars a harbinger for the fature. At such moments, as his arm was twined around her waist and her head was nestled on his bosom, he would gaze upon her beautiful countenance, so bright, so innocent in youthful beauty, at that time so emblematic of the pure heavens she looked upon. "Beauty of the grass and splendor of the flowers" was unnoticed by him. The storm and the tempest, when the demons of the cloud shook their shroud upon the earth, were his element. He was driven like a blighted leaf before the wind, and in the darkness of his despair longed for the strife and the red flash of swords. The present was all to him; for he knew not of the He looked upon the world, and cried in the bitterness deep, silent, fathomless future that awaited him-that, of his grief, "I am alone." For his parents had deabove every hope of the past, a spectre form would dark-parted, and his sister had left him. He was alone, and ly hover, pointing to the dreams and visions swept from the earth forever. One morning-it was as bright as his love-Armine arose to take the accustomed walk with his sister: it was later than usual; the sun was high in the heavens, and its rays had almost dried the dews of night from the long grass that waved upon the earth; yet she was not up. He went to her chamber door and called her name, but no one answered. He called again and again, but all was silent. The suspense became intolerable: he burst the door open. Her bed had not been pressed on that night-all in the room was the same as on yesterday--but his sister, where was she? The spirit of the place had departed. As he was retiring, a packet on the table attracted his attention. It was directed in her own writing to his address. He tore it open, and found there a small locket presented by him to her many years previous: he touched the spring, and as it flew open a ringlet of her own hair floated on the table. How often, amid the dreariness of after years, was that slight memento bathed in his overgushing tears. he asked not for sympathy, and he dreamed not of love. The bright earth was yet beautiful: the glittering dew heralded its morn and shadowy twilight its eve, and at night the moon shed its mystic beams, and the stars, the eternal sentinels of time, spangled the heavens. Yet the sadness that pervaded his being, was blent with them, and darkened the face of nature. Link by link had been sundered of the chain that bound him to earth-cloud by cloud had arisen upon his hopes, and all was dreary and desolate. The sunshine of his youth had passed. In his meditations he would cling to the hope that Genevieve yet lived. Fame's eagle pinions lured him not-ambition's syren hopes were forgotten-that lyre, the sound of which people heard entranced, was untouched, and the beautiful visions of the poet were beaten back to their sad and silent chambers. Five years of suspense had passed, and she was unheard of. He resolved to make one more effort to penetrate the mystery. Wandering along the Seine, he at length reached Paris. Of his entrance into that city-of his danger and of his rescue, we have already recounted in the preceding chapter. Having exhausted the patience of the gentle reader, we hasten now from the retrospect to the events of the present. Reader, we abominate all comparisons, but we trust that you will find our narrative like a river, whose fountain is dull and lazy, but which, as its banks widen and its waters increase, will be found pleasant to the sight, You have lingered thus far with us to pluck the flower from the roadside; go on, and hand in hand we will open to your vision the wide landscape: perchance in the forests and groves, and by the murmuring waters, something may be found that will cheat existence for a moment of its palling realities and its sickening anxieties. A few days before this, she had been unusually gloomy and depressed. She went often to her usual haunts, and returned home sad and silent. On the previous evening she was sitting over a fountain which for years had been a favorite retreat; while there, her brother, who had been strolling through the woods, came near her unnoticed, and discovered that she was in tears: as silently as he came he stole away, and had almost forgotten the circumstance, until the morning of her sudden and mysterious disappearance. It then flashed upon him. An old servant, in passing near her window, about midnight, discovered lights in her chamber, and imagined that he could see forms flit by. He went to his own room, and in a short time thought that he heard strange noises. Some one was crying. As he lay perfectly still, it ceased, and was succeeded by whis- Armine in his slumbers had sent through the untrod perings so faint that he could but hear the sound-a vista of the future, a brightening dream; for although hurried tread as of two persons, and again all was silence. darkness and gloom rest upon the shrine, the spirit and As he was dozing into a second sleep he heard the sound the divinity still hover there, and seraph-winged and of carriage wheels along the road, but attributed all to fresh-breathing hope descends like the dove on the superstitious misgivings, until his slumbers were bro-waters of the past, and brightens, as with an Eden spell, ken on the next morning with the noise of the searchers. the dim clouds of the future. THE WEST FIFTY YEARS SINCE. CHAPTER IV. The Indians, perceiving that they would not be able to escape by flight, resolved to sell their lives at a dear price to the victors. Their loaded arms were stacked near the spot where they were constructing their rafts. On the first alarm, those who were not injured by the sudden fire from the top of the river bank, sprung to their rifles and stood on the defensive. They separated partially, and retreated slowly backwards along the beach, selecting at the same time the antagonists with whom they intended to grapple, and try the fate of war. The settlers pressed on vigorously, not at all forgetting the injunction of their commander, that "each man must buckle to his man," or the enemy would escape with only a trifling loss. them with intense interest, hoping that they were wounded, and that at last they would go down. But, after a long time, they were espied slowly ascending the bank. After they had reached the bluff, they sat down to rest themselves, when the whites raised a loud cry after them, to which they replied in defying tones and ejaculations. The hatred of these emigrants to the west towards the unlettered and uncivilized sons of the forest, was without any limit, and was met in a corresponding temper. The state of North Carolina claimed all the territory from the sea to the eastern bank of the Mississippi. She had invited all, who were sufficiently daring and brave to form settlements on her western boundary, to do so; and had promised to each head of a family, a preemption right to six hundred and forty acres of land. After the termination of our revolutionary war, the same state had allotted to the officers and soldiers of her continental line, large parcels of soil over which the Indians were then roaming, as rewards for their persevering zeal and signal bravery, in defending the rights of the colonies against the usurpations of the mother country. Whenever the boundaries of the new settlements were enlarged, the men, women and children, were set upon by the savages and slaughtered. It was forever uncertain when or where they would make their attacks. They came suddenly, perpetrated the meditated mischief, then disappeared, and buried themselves in their fastnesses and hiding places. The hos tility between these parties was unappeasable. The one was resolved to hold the property which had been allotted to it under the sanction of the law; the other adhered with unrelenting tenacity to the land which had been given them by the Great Spirit. The war which had so long depended between these combatants, and which had been prosecuted with such disastrous fortunes to both, was bloody and ferocious to the last degree. Every other consideration was finally swallowed up in the gratification of personal revenge. The white man hated the Indian, and the Indian hated the white man. Both saw that nothing less than the most daring acts of personal courage could save them from total extermina|tion. The fire from the bluff had been deadly, but still a sufficient number of the enemy remained to give full employment to the assailants. The savages discharged their pieces with effect, wounding five of the settlers so that they could render no assistance to their comrades. Those who had fired first, having reloaded, came to the succor of those who were in front. The commander led the van, giving his orders in a loud and animated tone. He seemed to have lost his usual coolness, and to have been wrought up, by the conviction of the deep stake which was to be won or lost in this game of life and death, to a pitch of enthusiasm bordering on madness. His whole countenance was full of desperate fury. His eye was lighted up by the feeling of revenge that was burning within him. The watchword was no quarters." Selecting the largest and fiercest of the enemy, the dauntless veteran gave him to understand by his movements upon him, that he had selected him as the object of his attack. He then made a sudden run at him, as though he sought an individual encounter with him, hand to hand, which threw the chief off his guard, and operated as a momentary surprize. At that instant the commander halted. As quick as thought, he raised his rifle, applied his long practised eye to the Those of the whites who had gone into the recent sight, fired, and the Indian fell, who had scarcely reached conflict, had parted from their families, with a resolution the earth before his adversary buried his tomahawk in regardless of all consequences, under the conviction his brains, drew out his knife, took the scalp, and put it that although their lot was a hard one, it must be met into his leather shot pouch. As the parties fought along with a courage equal to the exigent circumstances in the edge of the water, the warriors, according to custom, which they were placed. After this bloody battle or kept up a loud yelling to encourage each other. But it rather massacre was over, the conquerors turned their became fainter and fainter, until at last their number attention to the condition of their associates. Four was so much diminished, that they saw that they must of them had been killed, and nine of them wounded. all be cut off, unless they saved themselves by a despe- The former were hastily buried in the sand. But the rate effort to fly. Eight of them threw their arms be- situation of the latter, awakened all the generous symhind them, and plunged head foremost into the river, pathies of those who had escaped unhurt. They cried two or three of whom were already badly wounded. constantly for water to slake their burning thirst. One The victorious party, with their pieces ready, waited till poor fellow who was desperately hurt, implored them they should rise to take breath, and then fired. One to put an end to his misery, by shooting him through who came up, was pouring out blood from his mouth in the head; for he was certain, he said, that he could not a stream, but he was instantly wounded again, and roll - live. Some, in their agonies, prayed earnestly that ing over and over, he at last, after a desperate struggle, their sufferings might be quickly ended in death. This sunk to rise no more. These unerring marksmen killed party had gone on their expedition suddenly. They off all who had fled but two, who being expert swim-possessed no means to heal the sick or wounded, even if mers, made their way safely to the opposite shore, a dis- there had been time to collect them. tance of nearly a mile. The settlers stood and watched done with these unfortunate men? What was to be They could not be left to die. There were no vehicles on which to trans-ed with it, is still recited by the descendants of the unport them, and it seemed impossible to get them along fortunate victim. After this pious labor was performed, over a rough and narrow trace, every where crossed by the weary march was resumed. The wound which fallen timber, and at many points covered with large had been inflicted upon Henry was in itself not dangeloose rocks; this difficulty seemed to baffle all the devi-rous. But the weather was excessively hot-there was ces of the commander and his comrades, and to fill them nothing that could be applied to it, to cleanse it, but cold with distress. At length, a simple contrivance was sug-water. Fatigue, want of proper sustenance, bodily and gested and adopted. Round pieces of timber were pro- mental irritation, brought on him a slow and insidious cured, which were flattened at the ends, that were to fever which exhausted all his strength. No longer able rest on the ground. These pieces were connected by to sit in his saddle, he was placed upon the vehicle broad flat slips that were inserted and extended from which had been occupied by his dead companion. On side to side. The poles were raised to the shoulders of the evening of the fourteenth day the party arrived withthe horse, and a blanket thrown over his back. Then in seven miles of the station. An early start was made a broad string, like a breast-band, was drawn round the in the morning, and at about four o'clock in the evening breast of the animal. On these vehicles, resembling the caravan appeared on the top of the lofty hill that hand-barrows, these poor fellows were laid. One man overlooked Nashville. The commander and the spy led the horse carefully and slowly, and two others fol- rode together in front, the latter carrying a slender lowed behind, occasionally lifting up these contrivances, hickory pole in his hand, with all the scalps that had and easing them over the bad places and rocky ob- been taken strung upon it. Some of the children who structions that lay in the way. It was impossible for were near the gate first descried the returning party, the party to make more than ten miles a day. The and gave the word. All who were within instantly distance from the Tennessee to Nashville was one hun-rushed out and gathered up close together, seeming to dred and thirty miles. On the march, the sufferings of those who had been shot were indescribable. On the fifth day, one of the men grew rapidly worse, and it was obvious that he must die, for the ball had penetrated the groin and could not be extracted. Orders were given that the whole party should halt and await the result of the struggle which the dying man was maintaining against the rapid approaches of death. His courage, however, was unshaken. When night set in, fires were kindled and the guard mounted. The sufferer beckoned to the commander to come near him. Having done so, he said that he could not live till morning; that he wished to say a few words to him, his old friend and companion in arms. He then requested the veteran, down whose weather-beaten cheek tears were stealing, to tell his wife that he had fought and fallen as became a brave soldier. To tell the same to his chidren, when they became old enough to under-give the stirring details of the recent battle. The wife stand, how, when and why he had given up his life in their defence, and that they must never lose any opportunity of avenging his blood. He further desired that the place where he might be buried should be carefully marked, so that when the savages were driven from the country, his bones might be collected, and laid along side of those of his elder brother, who had but a few months before likewise fallen heroically in a desperate encounter with the enemy. Finally, he wished to bid farewell to all who were present. They came around him, and clasped his feeble hand. Not a word was spoken, but all were melted into tears. be afraid to advance and meet the fatal news which might be brought. That the late encounter had made widows of some and orphans of others, the train of wounded which followed in the rear, rendered almost certain. Behind all, came the five young squaws who had been taken prisoners, for the commander treated them with the greatest humanity, as it was one of his truisms that no brave man would ever lay his hand upon a woman in anger. At length there was a halt. The wife of the commander, as usual, was in front. When the veteran alighted, her oldest children being around her feet, she embraced him. But each of the wives of those who had been killed, cried out, “Great God! is my husband dead?" "Is he killed?" No replies were made. These women did not shed tears or shriek, but they set up the wild howl of maniacs-the result of utter despair. No one was yet prepared to of the commander first rallied and gave directions to have the widowed women taken away and placed in their cabins, whilst the friends of those who were lying on their litters were engaged in lifting them up in their blankets, and carrying them along slowly to their beds. But all were astonished and grieved at the spectral appearance of Henry. Only a little while before, he had gone forth to the battle broil, full of health and life and joy. His commander cherished for him a paternal attachment. His courage, energy, and noble bearing, had won the regards of all around him. The wife of the commander gave him her unceasing personal care. It was one of the many striking characteristics of She administered to him those simples that were at these early emigrants, that amidst the roughest scenes hand, and best calculated to abate and finally to remove and most appalling dangers, they were forever united his fever, and those tonics which could be procured in to one another by the most devoted affection. About the woods. She would not permit any one to wash an hour before day-light the patient expired. When and cleanse his wound, but performed this duty herself. the day dawned, the dead body was taken to a rocky Seeing that he was despondent-that there was somenook about fifty yards from the trace, and there laid. thing within him that weighed upon his heart-this The party gathered up the stones which were lying generous woman endeavored to revive his hopes by round on the surface of the ground, and erected a kind every appliance and suggestion within her power. of rude mausoleum on the top of which they placed After many weeks of suffering, Henry became perceppieces of fallen timber, in compliance with the dying tibly better. The five prisoners rode on their Indian man's request. This simple monument is known to ponies. They were dressed in the clothes that had this hour, and the melancholy history which is connect-been taken from the neighboring station. On their |