HOMER'S CLIFF.
THE STORY OP JANET CLYMER.
That truth is far stranger than fiction,
that life makes for us such tragedies as
never were written from any poor human
imagination, and that one weak woman
can endure a terror which might drive
strong men crazy, I am a living witness.
You have asked me, my dear Laura,
to tell you what there has been in my
past life to cast such a shade of serious
ness over my face. You flatter me by
saving that I am very handsome; in
truth, I used to think I had beauty ; but
of late years, very little of such thoughts
have troubled me. Having become my
friend within the past two years, of
course you know nothing of my life be
fore I came hither with my husband and
labes to make a new home. You see me
as I am now, and you truly say that I
liave no present cause for anything but
happiness. A husband than whom none
could be more devoted or kind ; two
sweet, sunny-faced children, to make
glad this delightful home; the affection
and admiration of many new and good
friends; indeed, Laura, you say truly
that I have every reason to be content
with my lot But still, you say, there is
a shadow often on my face; and some
times you think you have seen in it a look
of wild, woeful terror, strangely out of
place with such surroundings, the mean
ing of which you cannot imagine. And
you think it is a shadow of something in
the past which is thus projected over my
life :
You are right I live in the midst of
love, and light, and pleasure, and am
quite as happy as it is often given to mor
tals to be ; yet often in my waking as
well as my sleeping hours, I seem to see
a face and hear a voice which drive the
flush from mv cheek with the dreadful
recollections they suggest ; and more
than once in the .midst of gayety, and
laughter, and music, I have bitten my
line till they bled within, to keep back
the shriek that rose and sought utter
ance. I will tell you why this is. Listen.
I am, since my marriage, Janet Cly
nier : before that I was Janet Merton,
and dwelt at Monteith, a small town so
far from this that vou can hardly have
heard of it My parents died in my in
fancy, and I had been adopted by mj
aunt mv mother's sister, from whom J
was named. She had never married, and
was very wealthy, while my poor mother
had always hved just a step above pov
erty. Mv aunt Janet s story was quite ro
mantic ; but it will suffice to say that at
the age of 18 she was engaged to a rich
man. who. dying suddenly, only a week
before the day fixed for the wedding, left
her by his will his elegant house, his
lands, and, in fact, all his great property.
She at once took possession of the man
sion, and, true to his memory, lived there
with her servants alone, until her adop
tion of me.
If Aunt Janet had been neglectful to
my mother, as I have heard it said, she
seemed determined to go to the other
extreme with me. Prom a mere child,
up to the age of nineteen, I was petted
and made, much of ; and I think it is
owing to some natural good that is in me
that I was not completely spoiled. I
loved my aunt very dearly ; but with all
others I was wayward and capricious. I
was accomplished beyond any of the
girls of the neighborhood, and was hated
- tj many or them lor it, ana ior yes,
Laura, I can say it to you for my
beautv. Nay. you need not tell me that
it lasts still ; I only speak now of myself
as I was then, when my proud girlish
heart courted admiration, and my glass.
often consulted, told me that 1 was
beautiful. I had a round face, not over
full, with bold, sancy features, cheeks
glowing with the hue of health, eyes a
deep, laughing blue, and hair as richly
colden as if the precious dust had been
powdered over it I played, I sang,
talked French and painted, and excelled
in all these accomplishments; and my
kind old aunt told me one day with
frr-Ati'fW pride that I entertained my
company with beautiful grace and capb
vation. But better than all this, I loved
long walks out in the country, or through
the wild soenerv around Bomer's Cliff,
or gallops over the smooth roatfs on Aunt
Janet's spirited horses.
I have mentioned Bomers Cliff. It
was a wild Place, with a story known to
all the neighborhood. I will speak of it
anon.
rt .raa t Timl mv lovers. At one
time I think about all the young men in
ti, hwn were rivaling each other
aflftT-tinns : but I was too
fastidious to take up with any of them,
fw had a. decided no from my
lips. So it was that I easily gained the
name of a coquette ; unjustly, I think,
because the lads of the town were not of
that kind that could expect to piease
such a girl as I was. ' T
ru'i nT neM in a hurry, Janey,
mv aunt would often say, with a laugh.
"T don't think youH take a common
one, any time ; but don't be in haste to
leave your auntie, even for the best
kind of a husband. You're haying
pretty good times here, child ; it 11 be
better for yon in the end to enjoy them
I thought so, too ; and so one after
another I sent my admirers to the
right about, and kept myself heart
There was one of them, however who
for a long time gave me no chance to say
that hard little word of two letters. It
was Ralph Sanders, a young man who
kept the local school ; a tall, strong fel
low, intelligent and educated, with a mu
sical voice, and a kind, loving way about
him that, I think, would have wonrae
off-hand had it not been for my good
aunt's caution. I should not have men
tioned him with the other young men of
' the place, for he was far superior toaU
of them, and was really a man that any
society mightbeproud of. Btlwhed
myself carefully, and snoceeded, rather
against my inclinations, in keeping my
heart away from him. As for hmi,he
was faithful in his attentions to me, and
all ileference and &a?eheZ
me ; but, thus far, he had not com .spo
ken of love though hi
hail often silently told me the story that
Ins hps refused. . ,
tt;0 .,ur.-nn was well known
in the
i . i . . xTT! . i ah T learned
one oarx
.i t'i machman to drive
t .i i .9a. n tVie way home.
leaiied, unobserved, out of the wmdow,
awaiting his return. Two men, whom I
knewby voice, but not by name, saun
tered by on the pavement, and, fus
piciousof my presence, talked of the
man that I thought most of when I al
lowed myself to think at all of such sub-
:J6What, the schoolmaster?" queried
one. .; .:!':' :
"Yes," answered the other. ,,
" What's the matter with him i , , ?
" Lovesick, I fancy. When a man who
loves his gun, and can handle it as well
as he can, quits it to run after a petacoat,
you may be sure he's a little- soft Why
the fellow's the best shot in the country ;
and he used to get up early in the mom-
ing, to snoot ueiore ncuuouwiu. .uo
. , 1 1T'.,
dropped ou that now. .
" Wen, be s nunnng yet, am ue t
" Yes ; he's found better game."
And the two went beyond hearing,
with a laugh. ,
Riding home by myself, I first became
angry at poor Ralph Sanders for giving
any occasion to mase sucu reumiM ,
tnen x gave mm a utuo p"j
cerity of his love, which, I saw, must
soon be brought to grief. But my
thoughts did not linger long with him;
they speedily turned to Sidney Bartol,
the stranger who had set the town on
the tiptoe of excitement for the past
month, and with whom I had ridden,
walked, and chatted several times. He
was tall, dark of hair and eyes, ana ais-tinguished-looking
; and rumor said that
he was both rich and eminent, traveling
incocmito for amusement, and had
stopped here for a temporary rest The
days and weeks had slipped away since
his arrival, and still he stayed ; and, if I
read aright the meaning of the looks that
he gave me, and the songs that he sung
me, I was the cause of his delay.
But him. too. I had put away from my
thoughts ; I had once or twice half whis
pered to myself that I could not love
such, a dark, mysterious being as ne
seemed ; and then I would stifle all
thought on the subject with the conven
ient reflection : " Pshaw ! they're all the
same to me. I'll marry none of them ;
I'm well content to be my Aunt Janet's
girl for some long years yet"
I saw through the shutters uiat me
front parlor was lighted ; and I met at
the door my maid, wno tola me mat jut.
Sanders was waiting for me. I entered
the parlor without removing my hat or
shawl, half vexed at his presence there
after what I had heard that evening. He
was standing by the piano, hat in hand,
humming the first liars of a waltz that I
had been playing ; and he came directly
forward when he saw me.
I beg pardon, Janet " he would call
me by my Christian name, and he was
the only one of my admirers who dared
- i beg pardon, ne repeated, " lor
my unseasonable call ; but I don't mean
to stay To-morrow is a school noli day,
and I do so much want you to come and
take a walk with me about Bomer's Cliff.
It is so pleasant there at this time of the
year ; and
To-morrow Homer s Una : 1 ex
claimed. I had a right to be surprised ; because
now, as I stood there with the knob of the
parlor door in my hand, looking into this
man's face, I remembered that on the
previous night, at this very hour, that
other man, Sidney Bartol, stood just
where he now stood, and made that same
request of me, almost in the same lan
guage. " A singular coincidence," I thought.
Was it not something more? How
can we know ?
"I am sorry, Mr. Sanders," I replied,
" that I cannot go with you. I have an
other engagement"
He looked grave and very disap
pointed.
"I had hoped, Janet," he said, " that
mv eompanv was airreenble to vou : but
lately I have almost come to think that it
is not. xou always refuse me wnen x
ask vou to ride or walk. I wish I could
think that it is no dislike of myself that
influences you."
I took umbrage instantly at his words.
" xou have no right to imagine my
motives," I said, warmly. " It should
be enough for you to know that I cannot
accept this invitation, and that reason is
a sufficient one."
He moved a step nearer to me.
" You might have known that I would
have asked you to-day," he said, half -reproachfully.
" You know I come here
every holiday."
" You pester me," I said, pretending
to be a good deal more offended by Ins
words and tone than I really was. " You
talk as though you had some claim upon
me, and as though I were bound to pre
fer vou to my other friends. You know
better, Mr. Sanders."
He came still nearer.
" Have you never felt that you prefer
red me to the outers r ne asked.
And then I rebelled against this ques-i
tion. and spoke out passionately, like a
child.
" I won't be catechized in this way !
I cried. Ion needn t ask me any
such questions, for I'll never answer
them I"
"Pardon me, Janet," he said, kindly
but seriously. ' ' I did not wish to offend
you. I will go now, for I see that my
presence only irritates you. But first, I
should like to ask you one question. Are
you not going out with Mr. Bartol to
morrow ? Ah ! your face tells me that
you are ; I more than suspected it I
want to tell you, as a friend, that you
had better have nothing to do with him.
I don't know him : I've only seen him
twice ; and I can't tell exactly what
fear from him on your account ; but
tell you. Janet, he is a dangerous man
for you. But you do not believe me.
Welt I shall pray to God for your safe
ty, and I shall watch over you, as far as I
can.
He bade me good evening, and
walked out of the house, leaving me
puzzled, indignant- and annoyed, but
nfcill not very angry with him. He
had shown me his . heart as plainly
m a. man could, and 1 had utterly
refused to look at it I could not help
thinking, in the same instant that I cen
sured him for meddling, how kind was
his way, and how gentle has voice; ana x
thought as I sat there upon an ottoman
in the parlor for a few moments before
putting out the lights and retiring to my
chamber, that but for one thing he had
said, I should think pleasantly of Ralph
Sanders, as I had iust seen him, and per
haps dream of him that night , And that
thing was, that he had warned me against
Sidney Bartol, and called nun a danger
ram num for me. -
. What right had he to say such things
to me ? I was not a child, who could not
h tmstad out of sight of my home. . jur.
Bartol was a gentleman, quite as good as
Ralph Sanders, even if he was a stranger;
and I did not choose that the latter
should instruct me how I was to treat
him. If. Ralph . did not Kke him, he
could shun him; but so long as his at
tantirma were agreeable to me. I would
receive them, in spite of the schoolmas
ter's unreasonable jealousy. For all that
I cared to know of my heart just then, I
liked the stranger quite as much as I did
Ralph: and with these thoughts spin
ning through my head I went to sleep,
firm in the resolution that I would ao
Ttarfnl to the CUS OU
the morrow, aal promised him whether
Ralph liked it or not. - '
Soon after breakfast Sidney Bartol
n.3 Ttshmnina trt do SB I Pleased
in spite of my warning, I81
with my hat and shawl on, all ready to go
at once, lest some wwu
5-A.i y 14an.Trioint hinx. -tie
n.nt held open
came in "' . .
men, everything wrrrrr7
well-poised figure. J. uiongu
, i-,. Tion nana! that day
cneeira were ""V""- . -t
I noticed that his eyes, brilliflJiUy black
T. -JTr-w. afrftntrelv restless, and that
all his movements were nervous. He
smiled that melancholy smile that was
habitual to him, disclosing the even
white teeth under his lips; and he in
clined his head with a quick motion that
shook the curling locks on his broad
brow.
" Quite ready, I see, Miss Merton," he
said, as he took my hand.
I started and shuddered ; his own was
feverishly hot.
" I fear you are not well enough to go,
Mr. Bartol," I said.
"Oh, yes never fear," he said, light
ly, "lama little nervous this morning,
owing, I think, to an ugly dream that
broke my rest last night Did you ever
dream of falling a thousand feet into the
sea, and then sinking, sinking, sinking
till you awoke, just ready to die with
terror and dispair ? Well, such was my
dream ; and I think it lasted me all night
But, come, we've something pleasanter
to think of to-day. It's as lovely an Oc
tober morning as you can imagine, and
Nature fairly beckons us to her. Let's
away at once towards old Romer."
I followed him into the hall, and there
met Aunt Janet Mr. Bartol bowed and
spoke to her ; and she cautioned him to
take good care of me, and bring me
bark early, which he promised to do.
Our house was a little way north of
the village, which we just skirted as we
went along the road that led to the Cliff.
We passed between well-kept hedges for
half a mile ; and then we struck off by a
footpath across the meadows. Leading
through some variety of hill and hollow
in the course of a mile from the highway,
this pa tli at last terminated at the foot of
Romer s Cliff, which we saw lifting its
gigantic battlement against the sky,
while the bright morning burnished its
rocky breast as with a gilding of fire.
More than once, as we walked along
the road, I had heard a sound like that
of footfalls on the other Bide of the
hedge, to the left ; but I did not call the
attention of my companion to the fact,
and he did not observe it I looked back
after we had taken the path, and saw. the
figure of a man by the hedge-side, lean
ing on a gun, and gazing intently alter
1 knew nim at once for iialpli zan
ders. And when we had crossed the
first broad meadow, and as Mr. Battel's
hand assisted me over the stile, I looked
back, and saw him following us very
slowly, at a distance, with his gun over
his shoulder. -
We continued our walk. I said noth
ing ol wnat -i naa seen ; out x remem
bered at once his significant words of the
night before : "I shall pray to Qod for
your safety, and I shall watch over you
myseii, so iar as x can.
Ana now, it would seem, ue naa Degun
his espoinage. If I was not angry with
him the night before, I certainly was
now. I accused him in my mind of hy
pocrisy and deceit in pretending to think
that this man at my side is dangerous to
me. Nobody had said it, nobody had
thought it, save the one who had taken
it upon himself to follow me, like a dog,
after I had declined his company. I was
sure that a miserable spirit of jealousy,
and nothing else, was at the bottom of
his conduct ; and I resolved upon - the
instant that I would have nothing more
to do with him. With this resolve I
withdrew my thoughts from Ralph San
ders, and gave them to my companion.
Sidney .Bartol was usually animated,
though always serious of face ; but to
day he seemed taciturn, and talked but
little. Yet he was scrupulously atten
tive ; his hand was always offered in time
to assist me over the rocks, which, as we
approached the cliff, began to line the
way. There was one place, I remember,
where a great tree had fallen right across
the path ; and when he had helped me
upon it, my foot slipped on the wet,
mossy trunk, and I should have fallen,
had he not caught me. He did more ; he
pressed me so violently in his arms that
I was frightened, and gave a little cry.
Pardon me, he Deggea, releasing
me in the path ; " I am nervous, indeed ;
I have not yet recovered from the effects
of that hideous dream."
I looked askance at hun ; his eye
caught mine, and they seemed to burn
with the intensity ol the look ne gave
me. 1 shuddered again, ana irom inai
moment I avoided his gaze. I could not
mistake it ; it was the fire of deep, de
termined passion that gleamed in his
eyes, and its intensity startled me. Yet
he said nothing to make me tremble ; it
was only that look, that touch.
Here is the elm, ne said. " Jjet us
rest for a moment before we begin the
ascent" .
We took our seats upon a mossy rock;
and I looked from the rough jagged
fragments that were scattered at the base,
up the smooth, hard face of granite that
reared itself almost in a perpendicular
two hundred and seventy feet above us.
Not a tree, hardly a bush, found sus
tenance on that granite surface: and the
stunted pines that lined its summit look
ed from where we sat like straggling
weeds. The breadth of this gigantic
cliff was at its base about equal to its
height: its sides sloped inwardly, so
to give it a pyramidal appearance; and
its rough, rocky background gradually
fell away into the shape of a great hump
backed hill, which met the fields a
Quarter of a mile to the rear of the cliff.
The place naa its story, in oiaen
times there was a straggling village
about where Monteith is now situated;
and among its youth was Isaac Romer, a
bold, daring hunter. The village was
surprised one night by the unexpected
irruption of a large band of outlaws, its
dwellings given np to the torcn, and its
people, men. women and children, to
the sword, une. uie one wnoee uie uie
bandit-chief most desired. Isaac Romer,
escaped to the hill with his betrothed, a
girl of Uie village, ane it was wnom me
chief, came to capture. Banted lor a
moment, the outlaws soon found the
direction of Bomer's flight, and pursued
him to the brow of the cliff. With yells
of fiendish exultation they rushed toward
him. wnen ne. uenant in ms uomuis
. . . . n t 1 , -V I
desperation, took the girl in his arms.
and; leaped from the very summit' The
lovers were found on the rocks beneath,
locked in the embrace of death I .
The occasion of our present visit here,
was a wish carelessly expressed to Mr.
BartoL after relating him this story, to
visit the summit of the cliff, and view the
spot where this tragedy happened. ; His
invitation followed immediately, and I
accepted it without thinking of the diffi
culties of the ascent; in fact, I did not
know how difficult it was. iiut now, as
I sat here with Sydney Bartol at my feet
and looked first up the face of the dizzy
height, and then at the narrow path that
wound its circuitous way up the hill, now
along the edge of a steep descent, and
now hidden by the intervening rocks.
mv heart failed me, and I said to my
companion : "Let us not try to scale
that toilsome path, Mr. Bartol. I am
quite satisfied with what I see from be
low." -
He turned his eyes full upon me, and
they gleamed again as if with internal
fire.'' '-:- -
- " Whati- not ascend the hill, when we
have come all this way for nothing else ?
he exclaimed, starting up. - "Come it's
not very hard I will hold you, and we
shall get up bravely." -
He seized my hand, imprisoning it in
his own, so that I could not withdraw it,
and drew, rather than led me, to the foot
of the path. I hesitated and hung back ;
I had it on my lips to decline positively
to go up; but I found, with sudden alarju,
that I was not able to control myself
against him. Talking incessantly to en
courage me, and pulling me up as he
talked, he forced me along to the first
resting-place, a great rock, fifty feet
above Uie one where, we had been sit
ting. ! i
We paused here for breath, and lean
ing faintly and wearily against it, I
looked down, and saw the figure of a
man, with a gun over his shoulder, dis
appearing around the face of the cliff.
My heart throbbed; and at that instant
I wished that I had accepted the school- !
master's invitation. I glanced at the
anan beside me; he was looking straight
upwards, and had seen noimng ueiow.
"Come! " he said.
His hand griped mine again ; his eyes
blazed with a wild, unearthly light ; and,
dragged unwillingly after him, I ascend
ed the 8teep and crooked path. My feet
were cut and bruised against the rocks j
that lined the way, my breath was fail
ing, my throat was dry and husky, and a
mortal fear took possession of me. j
With ione wild, frantic effort, I released j
my hand from his grasp, and turned to
fly ; but my strength was all gone, and I
sank helplessly on the path.
He turned fiercely upon me.
"No more no more, Mr. Bartol, I
beseech you!" was iy pitiful cry.
" Please let me go home ; don't urge me
any further." .
" Not a step backward ! " he shouted.
Up up, till we reach the highest sum
mit no faltering, no hesitating."
I made no answer. His face was ter
rible in its wildness to look upon ; his
eyes shone with frenzy, and the exercise
had brought a vivid flush to his dark
face. I hid mine that I might not see
his. I j
" Come !
He Btamped his foot impatiently. The
next ! instant he seized me boldly,
and swung me to his shoulder, and ran
upward like an antelope along the path.
As he held me in his arms, my head
overhung a frightful precipice, while
his feet trod close on the borders of it.
The terror was too much for me I
fainted outright
A cool breeze blew over my face, and
brought me to life again. I was lying on
the grass ; Bartol stood with folded arms
beside me, gazing out upon the prospect
I started to my feet, and a single glance
showed me that we stood on the apex of
the cliff, hardly three yards from the
edge. I At any other time my soul would
have been enraptured with the glorious
beauty of the spectacle that burst upon
my sight Touched with the gorgeous
coloring of October, the country below
spread out before us, its diversity ox
field, woods, and farm stretehing away
for miles, until it lost itself in the
horizon I looked, and wondered, and
almost forgot how I had come here ; but
the voice of Bartol quickly brought me
back to the full horror of my situation.
Look how glorious it is 1 he cried,
seizing my arm with one hand, and wav
ing the other with the full sweep of his
arm. ("How glorious how beautiful
how mighty! Look look!"
The gleam of ins eye . was not now
casual and at intervals ; it was habitual.
He quivered in every muscle with excite
ment ; his hand gripped my hand so
closely that it gave me intense pain ;
utter vacuity was in his face. The ap
palling truth was before me ; the
was a : maniac I
Had a single moment been left me in
which to reflect upon the horrors of my
situation, I think I should have died
with the thought : but he gave me no
tune.
" What more fitting place for a bridal.
my beloved i " he exclaimed, laughing
gleefully. " You did not know, sweet
heart, why we came here ; it was that we
might be wedded here, and united be
yond the chance of separation. Don't
you remember, sweetheart, the pretty
story you told me of Uie lovers who were
united here, long ago? So will we be
joined, and the world at our feet shall
witness our eternal betrothal. Come.
sweetheart ; I have chosen you ; come ! "
x cast myseu down at his feet, praying,
imploring him to spare me. I might as
wen nave prayed to Uie rocks around me.
Again! he caught me in his arms and
strode straight toward the edge of the
cliff, i A word of prayer was upon my
lips ; I was about to close my eyes for
ever upon the beautiful world I loved so
well ; I thought once of dear Aunt Janet,
and murmured, " Ood have mercy ! "
Ana men
My . head hung forward upon his
breast ; the prospect was inverted to my
eyes, s Four steps more would launch us
both into e term try. At the instant
light puff of smoke floated out of the
bushes far below the foot of the cliff- so
far that I could plainly see it over the
edge. I Bartol took one step more, stag
gered, brought his hand to his heart with
a groan, and dropped me to the ground.
A dreadful imprecation followed ; he
stumbled . over me ; I looked up, and
found myself alone I ,
Some horrible fascination urged me to
loon over uie edge of the cliff. Ua my
hands- and knees I crept thither, and
grasping ; the bushes with , tenacious
fingers, gazed into the fearful ; void
below, - Far, far down, on the edge of
a rocks, lay all that remained of t
maniac ; and x saw approaching it the
tiny figure of a man with something car
ried across his shoulder. . I drew back
upon the edge ; the revulsion overcame
me ; ail was dark again. .. ;
It was long before I awoke that time.
But. thank Uod, when I did, it was in
my own little chamber at home, with' dear
Aunt J anet bending over me. The sun
of another day was sinning in through
the bunds ; the terror of the day that
was gone came back to me only as a
dreamt ; I sat up in bed, and smiled back
recognition to Aunt Janet's anxious look.
- Thank God, darling, it hasn't crazed
you," j&he said, as she kissed me, once on
the lips, and twice on each cheek. -
"" There's some one down stairs who
wants to see yon badly," she said, after a
moment' ' '- - - - -."'
" Ralph ?" I asked.
She- nodded, and said. "You must
know that it was he that saved yon ; and
he brought yon all the way home in his
arms.Tj '!'-; : " j" . 1
Let him come up. auntie." ' ?
And he soon came. His eyes sparkled
witn joy wnen x onered him my nana
but I did more. I drew his head down
to me, and kissed his forehead, whis
pering in his ear, " Ifyou can forget my
naughty words, dear Ralph '.
He Btopped my month with a kiss, and
x was content to say no more. .
We learnt all about Sidney Bartol three
weeks afterward, when his friends came
from a distance to take his body home.
The sudden death of his betrothed on the
very night before the waddinc-dav had
driven him crazy; and after haunting her
grave for a week, be disappeared, leav
ing a: letter which declared that his be
loved was not dead, and that he had gone
to find her. From that day. until the
news of his tragic fate reached' them.
they had heard nothing of him. With
the deep eunning of insanity he had suc
ceeded in hiding his real condition of
mind until the moment when I sat with
him under Romer 's Cliff.
And this, dear Laura, is my sto: y, ex
cepting that he whom I have called
Ralph Saunders was really Ralph Cly
mer, now my dear husband, the father
of these sweet children. Aunt Janet
had always liked '-!m, and after this ad
venture she said that she thought I
needed somebody to take care of me, and
intimated that she should not object to a
speedy marriage with him. We lived
with her until she died, some five years
after, and she, kind old soul left me all
her property.
I am happy, Laura ; I have been hap
py ever since the day that gave me to
Ralph Clymer. But you will not won
der, after what I have told you, that
hideous visions often disturb my sleep
at night, and sometimes follow me into
the pleasures and duties of the day. But
they are only shadows thank heaven,
they are only shadows !
EXECUTIONS.
. Historical Hketch of Various Modes
Anecdotes of ISxeeutionera and Executed
The Victim of the Guillotine.
Sanson very justly observes in his
voluminous memoirs that it would be a
very difficult matter to put into a cadre
meuioaique a history of death punish
ments. Still more so would it be to do
so within the limits of a newspaper
article. - All, therefore, that we propose
to do is briefly to glance at those modes
which have been and are most in vogue.
The early modes of execution were bar
barous in the extreme. Among them
crucifixion and impalement were the
most common. Crucifixion prevailed
among most Eastern nations. The
Romans reserved it for a low class of
criminals, and it was inflicted by the
Jews only under Roman rule. Crosses
were not usually high, but the convicts'
feet were within easy reach from the
ground. The Roman cross had a pin
projecting from the middle to support
the body and keep the hands from tear
ing out The method adopted in cruci
fixion was for four soldiers to draw the
convict up with ropes and set him on the
projecting peg in the center. The arms
and feet were then bound and nails
driven through them. Sometimes the
miserable victims lingered in agony for
two days.
Impalement was the splitting of the
body on a pointed stake. This mode
lingered in Turkey until recent times.
Aiie Turks, However, . Had a variety of
modes of punishment " Braying them
in a vast mortar used only for that pur
pose, was Uie mode of death specially
reserved for muftis.
Death by the infliction of the knout
(now happily abolished) is thus de
scribed :
"This is a kind of whin, consisting of & thoutr
of thick leather cat triangularly, nine or ten
I eel long ana m men broad, tapering to the
xunt, and nxed to a wooden handle some two
'eet long. The signal is given : the executioner
makes some steps forward, with his body bent,
holding the knout in both hands, while the
thong drags between his legs. On coming to
about three or four paces of his victim he raises
the knout rigorously above his head, and in
stantly bringing it down with rapidity toward
his knees the thong flies into the air, whistles,
descends, and clasps the body of the sufferer as
with a circle of iron. The
flesh is not mashed, but pounded, crushed ; the
blood rushes from all parts, the sufferer be
omes green and blue. 'When,' says the Uar-I
quia de Custine, a criminal is condemned to
more tnan a Hundred strokes of uie knout, tue
executioner humanely killa him by striking him
at the third blow on a mortal part But this
was not always permitted." '
Another most fearful xtussian punish
ment which resulted in death, was by
rods. In 1841, a fearful example took
place, the victim being a serf who had
shot his lord. He was condemned to six
thousand strokes of rods. Six thousand
men were ranged in parallel lines, armed
with small sticks of green wood. The
condemned was conducted in a cart
escorted by some men to the place of
punishment His hands were fastened
taghuy to Uie mouths of two muskets
crossed to the heights of the bayonets
with which they were armed. In this
situation the hands rested on the barrel,:
and the points of the bayonets upon the
breast of Uie criminal. Attended bv two
sub-officers, he passed slowly, with offi
cers holding the bayonets on either side,'
down Uie une, each soldier deliberately
striking .'him as he passed. An eye
witness says:
The execution was suspended at stroke
2,619, when the man was taken to hospital.
Seven months later he was brought out to nave
it finished, but died at the commencement of
execution."
In the JIarle'tan Mwcellanu there is a
curious " true relation of the bloody ex
ecution lately performed by the com
mandment of the Emperor's Majesty
upon the persons of some chief statesmen
and others in Prague, H June, 1621."
' Nearly all the condemned were men of hurh
degree. First of all came the Earl of Schlick ;
'hestretcnea iortn ins neck, holding up his
head, which the executioner struck off with great
dexterity and nimbleness.' . An unfortunate Dr.
Jessenius underwent an un exceptionally dread-i
fnl
nt - (joining to the scaffold last
of all, the executioner took him presently and
tied his hands upon his back, and then, Bitting
down upon his knees, a black cloth being laid
open under nun, ne stui caning upon the name
of God, when the executioner, with a little pair
pincers, pulled out his tongue and out it off with
a knife ; and thereupon presently after he
out off his head with his sword. ' These execu
tion! (there were twenty-four) were performed
by tne execunoneer or irague witn iour swords.
Decapitation by the ax flourished
especially in the Beventh century, and in
France was mostly in vogue under Riche-i
lieu, l- But hanging was the punishment
for inferior crimes up to the appearance'
of - the guillotine. The most notable
decapitations in England may be said to
have taken place under the Stuarts. -
Raleigh behaved with - extraordinary
coolness and dignity on the scaffold. He
asked for the ax, and when there - was a
delay in producing it, added, " 1 prithee
let me see it ; dost thou think that I am
afraid -of it" He passed the edge lightly
over his finger, and smiling, observed to
the Sheriff, " this a sharp medicine, but
a sound cure for all diseases," or words
to that effect !
No record of so dreadful a beheading
baa come down as that of his Grace the
Duke of Monmouth, in 1685. The Duke
gave uie executioner a handsome fee,!
with reiterated injunctions to dispatch
him at once, but the man the renowned
Jack Ketch- had on this occasion quite
lost bis nerve, and only severed the head
after repeated hacking. .'-. ' (
It was not until the time of Charles
II. that Temple Bar was selected for the
ghastly, exhibition of dead bodies and
quarters. Sir Thomas Armstrong's re
mains are stated to have been the first
exhibited there, in January, 1684. v Hor
ace Walpole says that in August, 1746,
he passed under the new heads for the
old ones remained there for years at
Temple Bar, where the people made a
trade of letting spy-glasses at a penny a
look.' "T
In the seventeenth century an execu
tion would seem to have been quite a
popular sight, even with very humane
persons. . Evelyn took an interest in
them. . - ' ' .
"At executions," (at Rome) he writes,'
in 1646. "I saw one, a gentleman, hanged
in his cloak and hat, for murder. They
struck the malefactor witn a dub that
first stunned him, and then cut his throat
At Naples they use a frame like ours at
Halifax," to which we shall subsequent
ly allude.
At Venice, in the same year, he writes :
" I saw a wretch executed who had mur
dered his master, for which he had his
head chopped off by an axe that slid
down a frame of timber between the two
tall columns in St Mark's piazza, at the
sea brink the executioner striking on
the axe with a beetle, and so the head
fell off the block."
Pepys evidently delighted in execu
tions. On April 19, 1662, he goes to a
draper's corner shop and " did see Bark
stead, Okey, and Corbet, drawn toward
the gallows at Tiburne ; they all looked
very cheerful." In the following June,
"about 11 o'clock, having a room got
ready for us, we all went to Uie Tower
Hill, and there saw Sir Harry Vane
brought The scaffold was so crowded
that we could not see it done. -
The most resolved man (and Pepys spoke
with a very large experience) that ever
died in that manner. . De
sired they would let him ' die like a gen
tleman and a Christian, and not pressed
and crowded as he was." On June 18
he writes, " The courage of Sir II. Vane
at his death is talked of everywhere as a
miracle."
In February, 1662, he accompanies
Dr. Scarborough and some of his friends,
after dining at Surgeons' Hall,'4 'to see
the body of a lusty fellow, a seaman, that
was hanged for robbery. 1 It seems one
Dillon, of a great family, was, after
much endeavor to have saved him, I
hanged with a silken halter this sessions,
of his own preparing, not for honor only,
but it being soft and sleek it do slip close
and kills, that is strangles presently ;
whereas, a stiff one do not come so close
together, and bo tho party may live the
longer. But all the doctors at table con
clude that there is no pain at all in hang
ing, for that it do stop the circulation of
the blood, and so stops all sense and mo
tion in an instant" In January, 1663,
Pepys is " up to get a place to see Tur
ner hanged, and got for a shilling to
stand upon the wheel of a cart in great
pain above an hour. At last he was
Hung off the ladder in his cloak." :
In 1668 there is dreadful disappoint
ment "Away with Mr. Pierce, the sur
geon, toward Tyburn, to the people
executed, but came too late, it being done :
two men and a woman hanged."
France has upon its records the chron
icle of some exceptionally terrible execu
tions by breaking on the wheel and tear
ing asunder. -
in 1756 there was published in Paris
for the Historical Society of France a
highly interesting journal of the reign of
xjouis a v., by jiL. Jtfarbier, avocat au
Barlement de I'aris. This gentleman
gives a detailed account of one of the
most terrible executions that ever took
place, that of .Damiens, in 1757, for
attempting the life of that most utterly
despicable of modern monarchs, Louis
XV.
The punishment began about 5 p. in.
with the burning of his hand, and tear
ing off of flesh with red hot pincers and
pouring in melted lead, when he made
the most terrible cries. Afterward he
was torn asunder.
In his commentary on the 117th sec
tion of Littleton's "Tenures," Coke
says : " The worst tenure I have read of
is to hold lands to be a hangman or exe
cutioner. It seemeth in ancient times
such officers were not voluntaries, nor
for lucre to be hired, unless they were
bound thereunto by tenure. To Shake
speare the fact of hereditary hangmen
was familiar, probably, as in the Manor
of Stoneley, the seat of a famous abbey,
in his native county of Warwick, there
were anciently four bondmen, whereof
eacu held one messuage and one quar-
toon oi land by Uie service of making Uie
gallows and hanging the thieves. Each
of which bondsmen was to wear a red
clout betwixt his shoulders upon his up
per garment ; to plow, reap, make the
lord's malt, and do other servile work.
At the beginning of the century there
yet lingered a barbaric custom of hang
ing in chains.
-. A writer in 1873 says : " Some fifty-
five or more - years ago, but less than
sixty, I made my first trip to Margate,
and saw a pirate hanging in chains upon
a gallows erected by the side of the
Thames." An idea was prevalent some
years ago that hanging alive in chains
was once a recognized legal punishment
in England. But this was not so ; it
was rather an extraordinary torture sanc
'tioned by usage. The last execution by
hanging of a nobleman in England was
that of Lord Ferrers for the murder of
his steward. As he was going to execu
tion in his landau and six, Mr. Hum
phries, cliaplain of the Tower, , where
Lord Ferrers was detained, took occa
sion to observe that the world would
naturally be very inquisitive concerning
the religion his lordship professed, and
asked him if he chose to say anything
upon that subject To which his lord
ship replied that he did not think him
self accountable to the world for his sen
timents on religion, but that he had
always believed in and adored one Ood,
the Maker of all things ; that whatever
his notions were he had never propo
gated them, or endeavored to gam any
persons over to his persuasion ; that all
countries ana nations nad a form of re
ligion by which the people were gov
erned, and that he looked upon whoever
disturbed them , in it as an enemy to
society ; that he very much blamed my
Lord Bolingbroke for ' permitting Ins
sentiments on religion to be published to
the world J that the many facts and dis
putes which happen about religion have
almost turned morality out of doors.
He could never believe that faith alone
could save a man. His own crime, he
said, was committed when he was beside
himself through vexation. In his apart
ment were found, it is said, the lines,
In doubt I lir'd. in doubt I die,
"-;' Vet stand prepared the vaat abyss to try, .
And aadiasoay'd expect eternity."
Up to the close of the last century a
woman - who murdered her husband
the -crime was termed : petty . treason
was. in England.' sentenced to ti rni-nl.
and in the last century a girl was burned
at Norwich for the murder of her mis
tress. Forgery seems to have been simi
larly dealt with in the case of a woman.
A-London newspaper "of the year 1788
announces that Jeremiah Grace and Mar
garet Sullivan, convicted for feloniously
and traitorously coloring with ' certain
materials producing the color of silver on
certain pieces of copper, resembling
shillings and sixpence, were brought ont
of Newgate about seven o'clock with two
other criminals. After the men had
been hanging, the woman was brought
out dressed in black, attended by a Ro
man Cathohc priest As soon as she
came to the stake she was placed on a
a t r i . - . .
BwiM, wiucn, alter some lime, was taken
from tinder her, and after being strangled,
the faggots were placed around her and
she was burned.
In the history of the Finder of Wake
field, of 1632, occurs a curious passage,
describing an anticipation of the guillo
tine : " Yorkeshire had many privileges,
as (also) the towne of Mafifivr, in the
same shire, a place of great cloathing,
few better in England, yet much sub
jected to robberies and thieves, which
swarmed the more in respect that when
any felony was committed they could not
get any man to play the executioner's
part, though the King had given them,
by act of Parliament, to use martial law.
A Friar there lived in these days that
was very ingenious; he invented an En
gin which, by the pulling out of a pin,
would fall and so cut off the neck. This
device kept them in awe a great while, till
at the last this Friar had committed a no
torious deed, and for the samo was the
first that hanseled the new engin, hi
own invention." From other sources it
appears that this instrument was used at
Halifax as early as the time of Edward
xlx. It was an instrument peculiar to
that town, ' and even there restricted
solely to the punishment of felonies com
mitted in the neighboring forest of
Hardwick, The Right Hon. J. Wilson
Croker states that the pedestal or stone
scaffold of this instrument was discovered
during uie present century under a long
accumulation of rubbish and soil. The
knife is still in the possession of the Lord
of the Manor of Wakefield.
Dr. Guillotin revived the interest in
these machines by bringing the subject
of an expeditions means of death before
the French Assembly, His speech to
the effect that the instrument whose em
ployment he advocated, would "strike
off your head in the twinkling of on eye,
and yon never feel it," caused great
amusement .
The superiority of the guillotine over
other inventions of its kind was in the
peculiar shape of its knife, which has a.
slanting edge instead of a honzonta
one, producing a far more effectual cut
Mr. Carlyle puts down the victims of
the guillotine during the Reign of Ter
ror at four thousand. Homo have;
thought that he underated the case, but
the late accomplished Sir John Bo wring,
writing to Notes and Queries, in 1870,
supports this view. Some forty yeorat
ago, he says, I had an opportunity of ex
amining the records kept by M. Sanson
at nis private house, of all the executions
by the guillotine which had taken place
at Paris during and since tho French "
revolution. There is a prooos verbal
of each kept in admirable order and duly
signed by uie omciais wno assisted at the
executions. We were much struck with
the current exonerations as to the num
ber of victims, and I have little doubt
that Mr. Carlyle is right in assorting that
the whole number was under four thou
sand, i -'
Of all those who suffered by the guil
lotine, the interest centers most in Marie
Antoinette. Sanson, the hereditary exe
cutioner before alluded to, writes of her:
' "On arriving upon the Place de la Revo
lution, the cart stopped exactly opposite
tne Urand Alley of Uie Tuileries. i otr
some minutes the Queen remained buried1
in profound reverie. She became more
deadly pale, and murmured, in a low
voice, 'my daughter, my children. My
grandfather and father supported her as:
she mounted the scaffold. Charles Henry-
Sanson said to her, in a subdued tone,
' Courage, madame.' The Queen turned:
quickly, as though astonished to meet,
with aught 'like sympathy, and said
Thank you, sir ; thank you.' Her-
accent was unohanged, her tone was firm,,
her steps, as she mounted the scaffold,,
as majestic as though she was ascer9ting,r
in tne neigut of ner grandeur, the grand,
staircase of Versailles. 'Adieu, my
children, I go to join your father,' were
her last words."
The office of executioner in Paries
seems to be Regarded as far more reputa
ble than elsewhere. The Sansons, who
certainly "had . many laitini to high,
respect, here succeeded M. Heindrich,.
who died about eighteen months ago,,
having discharged the duties of his office
for no less than fifty-four years. During:
this period. 139 criminals had passed,
through his hands. He was once asked',
by a visitor whether . he thought the
separated head continued to live after it.
had rolled into the basket He ponderedl
a few minutes, . as if to collect his memo
ry, and then related instanoos whichi
went to support an affirmative answer. -Among
them he said that on one occasion-;
a woman's head made a faint effort to
spit at him; and he spoke of violent
contortions occurring in the muscles of"
Orsini'a face. Similar contractions were?
observed to occur in Queen Mary's face -after
decapitation. But, surely, none '
these movements can be regarded in any
other light than as of the nature of reflex
actions. The stimulus is, no doubt, the
sudden loss of blood, which here, asi
elsewhere, induces convulsions, and we
al together repudiate the idea that con
s nonsness is preserved even for a moment
in the decapitated head. The mere blow
must stun, and before recovery occurs :
the flow of blood from so many large
vessels 'must be sufficient to occasion:
perfect unconsciousness. M. HeindricS
appears to have been a man of some
cultivation, or, at least, to have had some
interest in Ins calling, as ho attended
Velpean'a lectures in order to acquire a
knowledge of the exact position of the
noeucl vital. , He also , made various
improvements in the construction of the
instrument with which he operated.
. ; A remarkable story was told some time
ago in the Indian papers, of a case of
recovery after execution. A soldier who
had deserted and taken- to brigand g
was captured and condemned to death.
Being taken to the place of execution a
firing party of five performed their pain
ful duty, and the Sergeant commanding;
them, perceiving that the man was not
quite dead, gave him point blank the
coup de grace. In the belief that this
was really a finishing stroke, the body
was handed over , to the grave-digger ;
but, as night was approaching, the latter
postponed the task until morning. The
unfortunate man was not dead, and 'the
cold night air served to revive him. He
contrived to drag himself to the wall of
the inoloBura, against which he placed a
ladder which happened to be there, got
over, though bleeding all the time, and
with his arm broken by bullets, and de
livered himself up as prisoner at the
nearest guard-house. The Minister of
War and jnetice each claimed hun, but it
was expected that he would be pardoned.
Wnat the result actually was we cannot
say, ... ' ,-.,.Vt - -,!'-. -, - -
i An attempt was made to recover the
celebrated Rev. Dr. Dodd after he was
hung, but it entirely failed. One or two
instances of ench recovery are believed to
hive oec-urred, .VVw York Timet. -
Compoxb oi Ptppik Afp&es. Peel anl
quarter as many pippins as you thick
will make a nieensized dish for your fam
ily. To four pounds of fruit allow one
pound of white sugar, and the thinly
grated rind of two lemons. A small
pitcher of cream or rich milk is the only
ammmpaniment they need, although thin,
water-like crackers to eat with, them will
not be found amiss by many. '
If a! person happens to take two or
three of them to bed, there can be no
sleep until tired nature becomes com
pletely exhausted. Spread a blanket on
the floor, and with a light commence a
hunt Their color helps to detect them,
and if they alight on a woolen blanket
they will generally wait very obligingly
for a thumb and finger to extricate tliem.
Tbjs is about fleas. :
; A. T. Stewart has subscribed $10,000
for the Centennial celebration.
frJ..