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Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, March 06, 1856, Image 1

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A. A. EAULE, PUBLISHER.!
20" o More Compromise witla Slrt Vory.
TERMS, $1,25 IX ADVANCE.
IRASBURGH, VERMONT, THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 1856.
VOLUME 1.
NUMBER 10.
R
STANDARD.
CitcrarQ ScUctious-
THE CONVICT'S CONFESSION.
The circumstance which I am about to
record wa3 one that, at the time of its oc
currence, made a strong impression upon
me, and even now sometimes across my
mind, bringing with it a stronger feeling
of what deep and dreadful injustice might
be done to an individual who possessed
not sufficient moral courage to take those
steps which were necessary to his own
redemption from evil attempted to be
thrust upon him.
It so happened that I was in attendance
upon a family professionally for some
years, where there were several daugh
ters ; and out of compliment to me, I
presume, I was invited to the wedding
of one of these young girls, with a gen
tleman in my way, worthy of her as re
garded habits, and manners, and educa
tion ; although unhappily he did not pos
sess that amount of wealth he could have
dispensed so well, and which, somehow
or another, generally gets into wrong
hands.
It's all very well for foolish, unthink
ing people who form this fault, to pro
scribe to say that learning is better than
house or land ; but others, who know the
world, would have no dlliculty whatever
in making a choice.
Those who are at all practically ac
quainted with society know that it is not
education or manners, or talent, that makes
the man but money.
The question now asked concerning
anybody is not "What is he?" but
"What has he got?" and if the answer
can be " Money," he of course becomes
possessed of every virtue under the sun.
But to return to my tale.
Mary Dampsey, then, was about
to be married to Mr. John Sinclair, who,
as I have just observed, had the learning,
but alas ! not the house and land, which
the proscriber makes no light of.
In fact, he was a man of. good talent,
making a living by an exercise of that
talent ; and it was no difficult a matter to
premise that he was a man who, in due
time, was highly calculated to become
famous and celebrated for his acquire
ments ; but it requires a long and toilsome
journey before any one let his qualifi
cations be what they may can reach
" Fairies' proud temple, -where the envious throng
within,
Fling missiles on the envious throng -without."
And as he did not come of a noble family,
and as he would not pander to a political
party, he was on what may be considered
the longest possible road, and the steepest
to the supposed temple.
But, however, lie won the heart of
Mary Dampsey, and that was indeed, to
my mind, a conquest worth the making ;
for a gentler, fairer being, never had its
birth.
Before the marriage I happened to be
mentioning the matter to a friend, he
said, when I uttered the name of the
bridegroom,
- " Sinclair Sinclair. God bless me
Did you say Sinclair ? Is he a young man
with a a good looking expression of
countenance ?"
" Yes, the same."
"Oh, well, there's something wrong
about him."
44 Something wrong ! What, is he out
of his senses? I never saw a better
looking head in my life. There must be
something wrong about you to say so.
" Oh, no 1 I can't tell you what it is,
exactly, but I know I have heard a some
thing or another that I cannot exactly call
to mind. It's very provoking to chaac a
thing through your memory, but real
ly . Hang it, what can it be ? It's
a something, however, against him, I
know."
"It cannot be anything rery import'
ant, then, as you have forgotten it ; and
I should suggest that you ought to be
very careful indeed how you say any.
""ng ot the sort against anybody. You
don't know the incalculable injury it
may clo.
w0h! I won't say anything against
anybodynot I. But now I perfectly
recollect, it was Smith that told me there
was something or another that he had
heard of Jones.
Now, really, this is too bad."
" Oh ! no, it ain't too bad ; and as I have
recollected it, I'll ask Smith, when I see
him, what it really was, now ; and, if he
can tell me, IH let you know, and then
you can judge for yourself. Upon my
word, I feel quite uneasy about it ; and for
the sake of Sinclair, it ought to be sifted,
you see."
cry weu very well. Do as you
like in the matter. I don't think such
ague charges ought to be brought against
V one ; and I had been you, I would
not have said a word about it. I don't
mind saying so.because I know you would
not do an injury to any living creature
except through carelessnessj and careless
you know you are."
Tne short conversation I had had with
my friend had left an unpleasant sensa
tion upon my mind with reference to Mr.
Sinclair ; and when a note came to me
by post, the next day, the superscription
of which I knew to be in the hand-writing
of my friend, who had made the unknown
charge against Sinclair, I opened it with
some eagerness, and read as follows :
Dear : I have seen Smith, and found out
all about Sinclair. His brother was transported.
What do you think of that, now, my dear fellow 7
The idea of a young lady marrying any body be.
longing to what may be called a transportable
family! Isn't it dreadful ? It was some forging
business.
Yonra. in haste.
P. S. Don't say I said it."
This note gave me some uneasiness.
although if Mr. Sinclair had twenty
brothers, and the one half of that number
had been hung, and the other half trans
ported, I could not, for the life of me, see
that it constituted any charge against him
But I knew that I was on such points
rather singular, and consequently it gave
me some uneasiness to think that this mat
ter might seriously affect the prospects of
Mrs. Sinclair.
I went to the wedding.
AH was in readiness all was sunshine,
joy, expectation, and hilarity, until the
time arrived when the bridegroom ought
to have made his appearance. And lo ! he
came not !
Minute after minute flew by in anxious
expectation, and at length the bride burst
into tears, and declared that something
must have happened to him, and implored
some of the gentleman to go and make
inquiry for him.
One of her sisters, however, interfered,
saying :
" Mary, you ought to feel by far too in
dignant to send after your bridegroom
The insult of his being now five minutes
too late should be sufficient to eradicate
him from your thoughts."
" No. no. Maria," said Mary ; " I know
him better than you do much better, I
assure you. His absence is no fault of
his, and an accident, let it happen when
it will, should have no effect upon my af
fections.
" That sentiment does you a world of
honor, Miss Dampsey," said I ; and if
you will permit me to go and make in
quiry for Mr. Sinclair, I shall go, I think,
in the spirit you would wish me."
She thanked me by a look, and I left
the house.
Luckily this affair did not take place
in the church, but in the house of the
Dampsey's, where, although it was a
little contrary to custom so to do, the
bridegroom had agreed to meet the
bride, and accompany her to the sacred
edifice.
I had the address of Mr. Sinclair given
me, and, as it was not above three streets
off where he lived in chambers, I walked
there, and knocked at the door on one of
the staircases, which bore his name upon
its panel.
For a few seconds there was no an
swer, although I thought I heard some
one move in the room, and then I knocked
again rather 6harply, when the door was
opened by Mr. Sinclair himself ; and I
think I shall never forget the look of un
utterable woe that was upon his counte
nance.
" Mr. Sinclair," 1 6aid, " if this is an in
trusion, I hope you will pardon it I come
from Mary Dampsey."
Ho did not speak, but stretching out his
hand he took hold of me by the arm, and
led me into the chambers. Then, when
the door was closed, he said, in nervous
and excited accents.
44 Tell her to forget me beg of her to
forget me !"
"But what for? You have gained
her affections ; and it is a very strange
thing now for you to make such a re
quest'
44 It is a desperate thing, and under
many circumstances would be a wicked
thing, doctor. But I am doomed. Some
thing has happened which may, and
which I dread will involve me in disgrace.
She shall not share it with me, if I can
help it'
I was silent for some moments, and
then I said, in as impressive a tone as I
could assume.
44 Mr. Sinclair, beware of what you do.
Your own fate in life your own happi
ness, as well as the happiness of the fair
and intelligent girl whose affections you
have won depend upon your conduct
XTMl hOfA 1 t
"iv"""c juureeu committed any act
that ought to make you hesitate about
yoking the fate of another with your own.
say so; but if you are a victim, instead of
guilty, I implore you to summon courage
to your aid, and not allow yourself to be
borne down by any amount of circumstances.'
These words of mine seemed to have a
great effect upon him. He staggered to
a seat, and covering his face with his
hands ; for some moments he appeared
lost in thought Then suddenly he said.
" Heaven knows I am guiltless I"
" That's enough." I said. I will be
lieve you. And now it is a strange thing
to ask, but will you take me into your
confidence f
"I will"
"Agreed. I will go and calm the
fears of Mary, and return to you imme
diately."
I accordingly went back to the Damp
sey house, and said, aloud.
" I have seen Mr. Sinclair, and a cir
cumstance which he will write an explan
ation of to Miss Dampsey, forces the
putting off of the marriage for a short
time. He is well, and the circumstance
cannot be explained without prejudice to
him.
I perhaps really did go a little too far
in saying this much, but somehow I had
faith in the man, and I was amply re
warded by the look of gratitude that was
cast upon me by Miss Dampsey, who im
mediately said,
" I am quite satisfied."
The guests were rather wonder-stricken
at this state of things, and some of them
put on such stupid looks of wonder, that
it seemed doubtful whether they were
awake or not
The ladies were of course indignant,
for they had dressed themselves all for
the occasion, and now for there to be no
wedding at all, was too provoking.
How they settled it among them after
I left, I do not know, for I got away as
quickly as I could, and hurried back to
Sinclair's chambers, who seemed won
derfully calmed by the assurance
brought him, that even what had just
happened had not shaken the confidence
which Mary had in him ; nd then he
cried,
Oh, can I ever be worthy of such a
creature ?'
44 Yes," said I, " you certainly can be
worthy of her if you choose."
"I cannot," he replied; "I cannot
How am I to do so, when you have heard,
which you shall hear, the melancholy cir
cumstances by which I am surrounded.
you will admit that I no louger ought to
think of Mary Dampsey as a wife."
" And yet you say that you are guilt
less."
44 I am I am. But know you not
have seen enough of this world to know
that, in order to preserve a fair fame, it is
not enough to be innocent, but you must
manage to seem so likewise, or you will
not escape the very worst of censures."
". I certainly know that the world is a
censorious world, but I know likewise
that we are always the worst judges of
what affects ourselves, and that, let those
circumstances be what they may, our im
agination is apt to dress them up in false
colors, giving an importance to them
which they do not deserve."
He looked at me with something like
hopefulness in his countenance,and I pro
ceeded.
" Mr. Sinclair, it strikes me strongly
that you are allowing your imagination
to get the better of your reason, and sup
posing yourself to be involved in some af
fair, from which extrication would be easy
with a little more resolution than you pos
sess.
44 Think you so ? But you cannot judge
until you know all, and all you shall know
if you will do me the favor of listening to
my recital."
I signified my assent, and at the same
time expressed what pleasure it would af
ford metobeofserviceto him , after which
he began as follows ; and I can only in
form my readers that the tale is most
strictly true.
44 Sir," he said, " about ten years ago I
was in a far more precarious situation
than I am now, for I was too young then
to have found out my real powers, and
was, as it were, floundering about with
out a profession, and being first one thing
and then anther, in the hope of making a
respectable livelihood."
" I was unfortunately situated in my
bringing up, for I had an ignorant moth
er, and a father, who, although a man of
considerable abstract attachments, had not
one particle of knowledge calculated to
be useful to himself or his children. How
ever, he had constitutionally such an ir
ritable temper, that at the age of sixty,
when he died, he had not a friend in the
world to follow him to the grave, with
sigh or regret
"I had several brothers one older
than myself, who was of a morose, not to
eay vicious, turn of mind ; and three
younger. The one next to me was named
George, and he had always been ill-used
and negleted by the whole family and
more particularly by his mother ; I sup
pose because he had the misfort une of not
being very good looking. Moreover, as
she from some unacountable idiosyncra
sy made a pet of the eldest, who was about
as lovable a personage as a pig, she tho t,
I fancy, that she was making the matter
all square, by showing ill-will towards
another member of the family, but cer
tainly she did behave towards us all in a
manner to excite my indignation for a
long time a feeling which has now soft
ened down to pity.
" Next to George there was Alfred,
who made himself acceptable to my moth
er by humbling to the elder brother, who
was the prime favorite ; and altogeteer
Alfred had a very contemptible character.
"Then there was the youngest, of
whom I don't know much, except that
there were some indications about him of
the sulky, morose disposition of the eldest,
which might, or might not develope them
selves.
" After my father's death I gradually
left off having any communication with
them, for with one act and another, they
certainly did disgust me, and now I never
see any of them at all."
"Indeed!"
" No. There has been no quarrel, but
a complete and entire separation ; and al
though, I believe, they all live in London,
I don't know where, and I dare say I
should hardly know them if we were to
meet accidently in the public streets ; so
that you may say we are not according to
the common acceptance of the term, a
united family."
"But do you mean to tell me, Mr,
Sinclair, that anything of so trivial a na
ture as a general difference of sentiment,
temper and opinion can alienate a moth
er's love P
" It has alienated now, for she has not
made the ghost of an effort to clap eyes
upon mo now for six years."
" Is it possible 1"
" It's true; so you may guess she is not
a body possessed of the finest feelings in
the world, and her conduct goes a long
way towards upsetting the theory that
there is a natural and instinctive love be
tween child and parent."
" I am of the opinion," said I, " that
all duty and affection is due from the pa
rent to the child and that the affection of
the child for the parent is and should
be merely an acquired feeling, and sole
ly depenent upon the conduct of the pa
rent" 44 Were that opinion universal, doctor,
it would I think, make fathers and moth
ers a little more careful of what they
would not fancy, as thousands of them do
now, that they are entitled to some par
ticular admiration and reverence, because
they have brought a number of children
into the world, and that those children
owe them a respect and duty for that
mere fact, which may be a very doubtful
advantage, quite independent of their own
conduct towards them."
" You may depend," I said, " that as
the world advances in knowledge these
things will be better understood. But
proceed with your story, Mr. Sinclair."
"Well, then after my father's death,
there was evidently a sort of coalition
got up between my mother, her darling,
the eldest, and his ever-pleasant Alfred.
so George was made to look after himself,
and I candidly confess that, whether from
education or natural bias, he had some
bad qualities about him.
" For myself, I was hustling about and
trying to get a living where I could, by
turning to account what artistical and sci
entitle knowledge I had, and flagging
hard to acquire more.
" Thus some years passed away, until
one day, George, who had learnt copper
plate engraving, came to me, for I was
the only one who had held out a friendly
hand to him, and said,
" 4 A hair-dresser has employed me to
engrave for him one of those 4 Bank of
Elegance' notes, which are used as an
advertisement by many tradesmen, and
as he wants it to be as like as possible to
a real Bank of England note, can you
lend me one for a day or two, to copy.' "
" I thought nothing of the application,
except that I had not the note, but I at
tempted to borrow one unsuccessfully,
and in the end Master George had to wait
a day or two until I could accommodate
him, and then I lent him a five pound note
which he promised to bring back in a day
or two.
44 Now, except that I wanted the note,
I tho't nothing of the affair at all, for the
whole thing was so natual and clear, be
cause at the time the whole town, and
particularly the hair-dresser's shop win
dows, were full of these Bank of Ele-'
gance' notes) offering a thousand pounds,
and so on, to anybody who would cut
hair better than Tompkins, in Frizzle
lane. " The day ot two passed away, and
then one Morning Gerorge called upon
me.
" Here's your note,' he said, 4 it's all
right'
"What's all right?' I said.
" Oh ! nothing particular. I don't in
tend to be poor any more.'
" 'A worthy resolution !' said I ; 4 but
the only difficulty remains in the execu
tion.'
All's right You will see, perhaps, in time
what will surprise you.'
" Well, away he went, and I thought
nothing of what he said. I had got my
note back again and I fancied him hard
at work at his business.
A day or two were now elapsed, when
a note came to me, sayihg that he was go
ing to Ipswich, and that he would not be
back for 6ome time, although why he vol
unteered that piece of information to me
I did not know.
" However, I threw the letter on one
side, and having at that time some lec
tures to deliver on some scientific subjects
a little distance from town, I forgot all
about the affair, until, about a week after
wards I receiveda note, signed by George,
which requested me to meet him by the
general post office, at nine o'clock that
evening.
" There was something about the tenor
of the note that gave me some uneasiness,
I knew not why. It was so extraordinary
that he should make a street appointment
with me, instead of coming, as it seemed
to me he might as easDy have come to my
chambers, as he had frequently done be
fore.
44 But I went I had not walked above
twice past the general post office, when I
saw him.
" He did not speak, but in a hurried
manner he led me down an opposite street,
and then he said :
" 4 Did you see anybody watching ?'
" 4 Watching what ? said I.
44 Wathching as. Are you sure we are
not followed ?'
44 4 Good GodP said I, 4 what do you
mean r w hat it we are followed r
" 4 Hush ! hush ! You recollect I bor
rowed a five pound note of you ? Well,
you thought it was to engrave a 4 Bank
of Elegance note by, but between you
and I, it was to engrave a real one.'
"4Awhat?'
"4 A real one a forged one. I have
got the plate in my pocket I ha ve changed
one to-day, but I had to pay some of the
money, and I have spent the remainder ;
and what's more, I know I am suspected,
because I have been followed about, and
I think have only just eluded some one
who was sent after me."
44 Y'ou may guess, doctor, what must
have been my feelings at that moment
I recollect a sort of mist flocking before
my eyes ; aud, clinging to some iron rail
ings for support, I thought I should have
fainted ; and, as George went on talking,
all I heard was a confused sound, with
out the least understanding of what he
said.
" This dreadful feeling, however, soon
passed away, and a dreadful feeling it was.
I can compare it to nothing but what I
should suppose would be near the approach
of death.
"4 Why do you think more of it,' said
George, 4 than I do. What's the matter
with you !'
"40h, Godi'Isaid; 4do you ask?
George, have you no heart ? Have you
no head-piece, that you can talk so lightly
of what must be your ultimate destruc
tion ? What oh 1 what is now to become
of you?'
" 4 Oh ! I must get somewhere in the
country, and try to change a few of the
notes.'
" 4 No, no for God's sake, no, said L
4 Listen to me. There is but one chance
for you, and that is to leave England at
once and forever.'
" 4 That's all very well,' he replied ;
4 but where is the money to come from ?
I can't go under about twenty pounds or
so.'
" But you wouldn't go if you had that
amount f
4 He hesitated a moment, and then he
said
"4 Yes I would I would certainly ; for
as you say, 4 it's a bad chance here, and if
I am taken, the consequences are certain
You have alarmed me a little. I with I
bad the last fortnight to see over again.
But the honest truth is, I wanted money,
if for no other purpose, for the sake of j
showing in some way that I had it, and
mortifyng my mother and brothers. I
was willing to ran any ritk for sUch an
object but I do begin to thihk it is a
failure.'
And is it possible,' t said 1 that for
such a poor, wretched motive) you have
stooped to such criminality t
44 ever mind that. It's too late now
for reproaches. If by any means you
can get me twenty pounds or thereabout
I will leave the country at once. I can
get down to Liverpool, and then I 6hall
find some American trader, but I cannot
go without money, you see, or cslse I
would not trouble you. But if I have
any good fortune in the world, you may
depend me returning it to you, and with
interest too.'
4 4 Never mind that,' I said, 4 never
mind that Meet me here again at this
time to-morrow evening; and in the
meantime I will see what can be done.'
4 My state of mind can be much easier
imagined than described, as I walked
homewards, for I was at that time most
peculiarly situated. I had lost what was
to me was a considerable sum of money
by the insolvency of one upon whom I had
relied, and it was only by the greatest in
dustry, and the most indefatigable exer-1
tions, that I could at all hope to meet my
own engagements ; so that, in fact, I was
in as ticklish a position, that a very few
pounds abstracted from what was requT.d
to fill up some gap or another, would be
to me a most serious aflair.
" But what was I to do ? Could I run
the risk of the disgrace which must at
tach to the very name of Sinclair, If I
allowed any exertions to be wanting on
my part to save George from the dreadful
consequences of his own folly ?
" I resolved to sacrifice myself. lowed
much I owed several little matters, and
I had the means of paying, but only just
the means the sum of monrv in mv
j j
hands amounted to about fourteen pounds.
That was not enough, and although I had
not seen them for some time, I resolved
to go to my mother and brothers, and
crave their assistance.
4 1 did not consider that I was justified
in telling them exactly how th e matter
stood, but I went to them on the next
evening, just a little before the hour at
which I had to meet George again, and I
saw them all.
" I told them that George was now
quite willing to go to America. I told
them that I had reason to believe it was
quite necessary he should go. I repre
sented that for our own credit's sake, he
had better be given the money to go. I
knew to them it would be no use to put
the matter, in any other light than as a
matter of interest, and I exhansted all
the rhetoric I was master of.
" I soon got my answer, and that an
swer was decisive. I cannot at this dis
tance of time, take upon me to say from
whose lips it came, I think it was my
mother's Heaven forgive her if it were
so. J. cannot assert that it was. but th
answer, which came from one of them.
and was fullysubscribed to by all the rest,
was this:
" 4 There are four of us, and if a far
thing each would save George from be
ing hanged, we would not subscribe the
penny.'
u I went away at once. I took him all
I had myself, and handed it to him,
" 4 Go,' I said ; 4 go at once, for Heav
en's sake, altho' this may not be sufficient.
Go away from London. Let me know
where you are; and if any more is abfo
lutely necessary, I will stir Heaven and
earth to get it for you.'
"He took the money that amount
which ruined me and promising that he
would leave London at once, in fact that
he would walk toward Liverpool, getting
what cheap lifts he could on Ins way, and
write to me when he got there, stating
what amount he could get a passage in
one of the American traders for.
" Now I felt comparatively eay ; at all
events I thought that there was a chance
of his safety ; and although I knew not
which way to turn myself for means, I
felt as if a great weight had been lifted off
my heart
" Alas I only two days passed, when
one morning I received notice that he cu
inathe hands of the police, at Bow tired
that he had given his real name of Sin
clair, and had actually had the folly to
mention me and my address thus doing
me all the Iiarm he could, and himself no
good.
44 Well, doctor, I attended Lis examina
tion. I did all I could, but the wliole af
fair was my destruction for the time it
blighted every prospect I Lad in the
world, and another week saw me arrested
for debt, and an inmate of WLitecross
prison, while George lay, awaiting his
trial in Newgate.
Nearly ten years have passed away
since then. George plead guilty and was
transported for life ; and gradually I be
gan to get resources around me. From
the time that 1 visited him in Newgate
till this hi'orning, I never saft him."
44 this tncmin,Mr. Sinclair ? Did joil
see him this morning:'
"Yes. He came like an apparition.
I could scarcely believe 'my eyes as he
stood before me, and said
" 4 Well, brother, you see I have come
back. They let me off with eight years
instead ot life, and I have found my way
back. I understand you are pretty well
off, and are going to be married.'
" Good God ! George," I said ; "who
would have thought of seeing you ?"
" 4 Ah !' he said, 4 who indeed t But
to business. I expect you to support ine
now, and if you don't I shall accuse you
of having a guilty knowledge of my crim
inality ; and altho' at this distance of time,
I don't suppose anything would be done
by the magistrate in the matter, it wilt
ruin you in reputation, mind roM. I
learnt this dodge in Australia, so you had
better put up with it quietly. I intend
to live in London, and to call on you and
your wife whom 1 like, and shall expect
you to supply me with money.
4 V illain I I said, 4 can you look m
in the face and utter such words T
4 Oh, yes, he replied. 4 IH leave you
till two o'clock to consider it If you con
sent, well and good ; if you refuse, I shall
go up to Bowstreet and make the a ecu
sation against you of having known all
about it at the time I was transported,
and that will be enough to get it into all
the papers, you know ; so you can decide
for yourself.'
44 With that he left me ; aud I appeal to
you whether under the circumstances I
ought to hare united myself to Mary
Dampsey."
44 It is a most sad affair " I said, " but
let me propose a course to you. I will
wait here until two o'clock. The only
thing that can save you is some evidence
of a disinterested character to the eflecfi
that this is but an attempt to extort money
from you. Now if you can hide me some
where, I will listen to what is said."
" That might succeed in frightening him
away. There is a cupboard in yon corner,
into which you can introduce a chair, and
sit down, so that you will not be uncom
forable." This plan was duly adopted ; and about
five minutes before two I took the chair
in the cupboard, and waited not a little
aniously for the coming of the convict.
He was punctual to the minute, and I
heard him say to Mr. Sinclair, in a rough
insolent tone :
"Well, have you decided? I have
been on the watch, and you have not left
these chambers, so you have had no op
portunity to play me a trick."
" You know I am entirely innocent'
said Mr. Sinclair, 44 of any participation
in your crime, and that to make an at
tempt to save you, I actually ruined my
self at the period.'
Oh 1 yes, I know all that. I doii'l
blink the matter, at the least I know
you had no more do with it than the man
in the moon, but how are you to prove
that ? You can't deny meeting me at the
Post Office. You can't deny lending roe
the note to copy. In fact, you can't get
out of it, though you had nothing to do
with it i so band over some cash to begin
with at once."
" Stop I" Baid I as I emerped from the
cupboard; "I shall hand yon to a police
man, Mr. ueorge binclair, and swear to
what I have overheard, when you will
stand a very fair chance to be transported
again."
" Damnation V he said. Done at
last!"
Then without another word be dashed
out of the place.
On that day week Mr. Sinclair married
Mary Darnpsey, whom 1 made privately
acquainted with the circumstances 1 have
narrated before hand. Her reply wai
worthy her.
" What difference," she said, " can the"
criminality of others make in my affec
tions ? Tho misfortune of James Sinclair
in having so unworthy a relative, on the
contrary, attaches me stronger to Lira by
the bonds of sympathy t Oh ! could he
for one moment suptiose that such a cir
cumstance should make any difference to
mer
1 had frequent opportunities of teeing
the Sinclairs afterwards, and 1 will say
because 1 can say it with truth that a
greater share of happiness never fell l
the kit of any human beings than was
theirs.
There was all the qualities fchicb have
a tendency to ensure domestic felicity its
the disposition of Mary, and she Lad by
marrying Sinclair the rare good fortune
of meeting with a man in every way quali
fied to appreciate the many excellencies
of disposition to which she could so july
lay claim.
The vagabocd brother was m a aaia
Lcai d oC

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