THE CONFESSION.

Colonist, Volume II, Issue 107, 29 October 1858, Page 4

THE CONFESSION.

J£V MRS. C. i. BALFOUR. (Concluded.) "I COME to redeem my promise," he said, " to try to do you good—listen to what I have to tell you, young man, for it concerns voir to know and remember it as long as you live. 1 do not ask you to pity me, or think charitably of me; you do not do the .latter now, and when you have heard the source of misery you have witnessed, I am. sure you will not do the former. You see before you a wretch who has lost all claim to:the sympathy of humanity. Yes! you have judged me rightly, as a man stained with the deadliest crime. I was once virtuous and happy, and one fatal vice, with its enchanting allurements, plunged me into the foulest depths of guilt. I entered life with bright prospects; respectably connected; my business—that of a bookseller—was thriving and prosperous. My wife.and only daughter were all that I could wish; I was blessed far—far beyond my deserts, and I rashly, in the insolence .of .prosperity, trifled with my mercies. I have' been' remarked in my neighborhood as a man fond of home, and seldom seen .out of it. Indeed I had so many sources of happiness there,, that I felt no _ disposition ever to leave it. But one failing, engendered by easy circumstances, beset inc. I had become fond of the pleasures 4of the table,' as epicurianism is called; consequently, when I was elected to an office in the parish in which I was a householder, and compelled to leave my beloved home on the business it enjoined, I carried with me the germ of an evil which, in companionship with others, sooh ripened into fearful, magnitude. I have neither time nor strength,to tell you by what imperceptible degrees my habit gained such powerful ascendancy, as to arouse the attention of friends, and awaken sorrow in the heart, of one whose' married life had, previously, been a scene of uninterrupted happiness. Expostulation made me angry and wayward; I refused to be ' schooled', as I termed it, and a sort of coldness sprung up between me and my wife. 411 soon found that the seat in the tavernparlor, at certain hours every evening, •carefully set apart for my sole use, was more .pleasant than the seat at my own fireside, now rendered doubly dull by the absence ot my daughter, who had been sent to school in the country by her mother, to save her from witnessing the degradation of her unworthy father. However my heart had changed with regard to others, for that : dear child I, still entertained a fondness that might be termed adoration; it seemed as if she was the only-creature my heart could love] Just God, that she should have been . made my punishmenti I drove down' every week to see her, and on that day I always returned home sober; invariably making promise of amendment—a promise which I- tie ver kept more than twelve hours. 1 found, aplenty of false or foolish friends, ready, at all times to excuse me to my face, by saying that, at all events, I was 'an enemy to no one but myself.' The 'father .of- lies' could not possibly invent a more specious falsehood; I neglected my home, 'my business, and my family,* as a natural consequence, all went wrong. In a few years I became embarrassed.; my wife's little property was all *old or mortgaged, to keep up my credit; and, to add to my. difficulties, my , confidential shopman left my employment, arid established himself in business in my immediate neighborhood, to my serious injury. I was no longer able to return to habits of regularity, and compete with my rival. I was still proud; and so great was the opinion entertained of my business and resources, that though my failing was 'known to all men,'few believed that ruin was actually staring me in the face. I, however, knew the startling fact; a fiendlike resolution arose in my mind; I determined not to be a poor man, however great the crimes I committed; I resolved to retain my station in society by some effort, no matter how desperate.

" My daughter had now left school, and her influence over me had 'giown with her growth, and strengthened with her strength;' clearly as I loved her, I felt her presence a restraint; I could not bear the scrutiny of her clear dark eye, so open and candid in its gentle expression, still less could I endure to look upon her—so innocent, beautiful, and accomplished, and think of her dawning womanhood being passed in poverty, and that, too, of my producing! The tumult of my thoughts kept me in constant misery; I became as ill as I was unhappy. My affectionate child was not slow to perceive'-my mental sufferings, and she strove to soothe me with attentions that alternately gratified aud agonised me.

A" My. slock had become greatly reduced, though this fact was not yet perceptible to others; and whether the wish was 'father to the thought' I know not; but I dreamed a tempting fatal dream, that my house had been burned down, during the absence of my family, and the large sum for which I was insured, enabled me to go with increased means into business. "From that time I had but one thought, one demoniac desire; and the spirit of evil, when he has once caused a wicked thought to enter a man's mind, never leaves him long.without opportunity of accomplishing it. It Was summer, and my wife wished for her usual trip to a watering place; I acquiesced so readily to her desire, that I thought she looked suspiciously at me, and exchanged glances with ray daughter. Preparations were speedily made for their departure. Alas!,my wife's suspicions were aroused that all was not right—that my mind was wandering; and it seems, as I learned raaiiy years after, she took her daughter into her confidence, and they arranged they Would leave home, as if to* take the steam boat to Ramsgatc; that instead of embarking on that day, my wife-should: remain at' a'friend's in the city, at?& that my daughter BJio-.ild return in the. evening at the time when I was known to be absent, let herself

ia with the latch-key at the back entrance, and if all was right, remain in her own room to sleep, and join her mother early in the morning, when, if her report was favorable, they were to proceed. My wife's anxiety was so great she could not think of going without these precautions, and they both knew, if I discovered the unexpected return, I should not be angry at wha.t was, in fact, only the overweening solicitude of affection, rendered zealous by ni}** reserve and strange manner. "I purchased this little Bible that I hold in my hand, for my poor child, as a present on her departure ; she took it from me with a sorrowful look, as if the shadow of coming ill had dimmed the brightness of her young spirit, and her tears fell fast when I kissed her cheek. Oh! how. often have I, with agonizing tenacity of remembrance, recalled that parting! seen my child's fair up-turned face, and felt the warm tears gushing over my rugged cheek! "They left, and' I, like a spirit of evil, commenced my diabolical work. My plan was soon arranged, for I feared to lose time; the ferment of my mind kept me in A constant activity. - Circumstances greatly favored me; for my female servant had accompanied my wife; -and the shop boy, who caused me th*? greatest perplexity, was sent for suddenly, in consequence of the illness of his mother. The person hired- to wait on me, in the place of the servant, was to come only daily. Every time during that' fearful day when my heart failed me, I applied for courage to ardent spirits. It was, therefore, with no want of the sin and sorrow-dealing potion, that I went to my old haunt at. night. Gladly would I have stayed away, but, with the cunning of crime, I knew that everything depended on my acting in accordance with my usual habits; any peculiarity I knew would be commented on. I therefore compelled myself to remain in my shop, until the usual hour for closing arrived, and after seeing the shop carefully closed, I busied myself in laying light combustible things about the shop; turned on the gas, which I had extinguished, so that it should escape from all the burners, closed up every aperture which might diffuse it, and took my departure to the tavern—a fire already consuming my own heart, which has remained unquenched, to this day ! I stayed two hours at the rendezvous, and then hastened home. In the dead of lhe night, wrapped only, in a loose dressing gown, that my escape might appear sudden and perilous, I found means to introduce a light into the shop, by removing the plug with which 1 stopped the keyhole, and, as I expected, from the quantity of gas that had escaped, I perceived a bright sheet of flame filling the whole space. I fled to my room, and threw myself into bed, almost determined, in .-my misery, to allow myself to perish. A space that seemed to me like an age, elapsed, and then I heard the crackling of wood, as if the shop door, communicating wjth the passage, was on fire, and I dis-, tinytly heard the roaring of the flames. In a few moments there was a dashing against the front door, and bursting of the shutters, when the pent up flames rushed wildly- forth, defying all control; in an incredibly small space of time, the staircase was on fire, and 1 threw up my window, and looked forth on the sea of heads that a few moments had collected together. The multitude with, one voice called to me to escape, while I, in the excitement of the moment, and actually feeling a diabolical delight in the work of destruction, threw myself into frantic postures, which were. mistaken by the humane for the gestures of despair. I scarcely know how I escaped, but a strong arm impelled me forward, and I recovered from a partial delirium on finding myself in the open air.

" From some cause there was great delay in getting water, and the* house was in flames from one end to another, before any measures could be taken to check the progress of the devouring element.

" Mine was a corner house, and a friendly neighbour in the narrow street that opened at the side of my shop, dragged me through the crowd into his dwelling. I looked through the drawing room windows, now fast cracking with the heat from my premises, when my eye alighted on one window of a back room, that looked into the side street, and immediatety faced me. My daughter's beautiful geraniums stood there, in their lattice work stand. The thought of her brought tears to my eyes. I dared, in my impiety, mentally to thank God.for her safety. My impious prayer was speedly confounded, for, as if to sear my eye-balls with horror, I beheld the window open, and the imploring face of my precious child presented itself to my distracted gaze. Her arms were stretched out, and the flames from the window below spreading upwards, seemed to leap towards her .; a sudden gust of wind blowing them aside, enabled her tp look out again, and then her eyes met mine. I saw that the book I had given her was in her hand. She looked mournfully at me and shook her head in despair; suddenly she made an effort, leaned over the window's edge, and threw the bible towards hie: impelled by the strength of despair, it fell at my feet. She stood with her hands clasped, as if in prayer, for a moment, and then the volumes of smoke hid her from my sight for ever; mearfwhilei I was restrained by force from throwing myself out of the window; I foamed, and raved, and yelled in;agony. Young man ! I cannot,tell, you what followed. It was found: necessary to set me apart from my fellow beings, though one strong sentiment of bitter unexfinguishable remorse, haunted me ever. One sweet' face was ever looking imploringly on me. I seemed to try incessantly to reach her, but. yawning chasms emitting sulphurous smoke, and torrents of blood and flame, ever obstructed my course. My share in Lhe crime,, it seems, ' was unsuspected; if my wife entertained suspicions, she never uttered them, and she explained satisfactorily

the circumstance "of her daughter's return.; You say, perhaps, that I thus .'escaped' the vengeance of the law, —vengeance of the "law indeed ! Oh ! what is- -that; to the vengeance of an offended God? Alas! alas! vvhat it is possible for frail humanity to suffer, and still live on ! 'God mercifully took my poor wife to himself, but I was not permitt dto die. After years of frantic visions, a more exquisite agony was sent. My reason returned, and with it the recollection of my fearful crime, stamped with terrible distinctness on my tortured mind. Is it any wonder that when the voice of God speaks in the storm, that I should imagine the swift lightning is commissioned to destroy me? I cannot rest, I cannot sleep, I cannot read, I cannot pray. Remember, young man, and tremble \—imtemperance caused my crime' my sufferings ! As if no aggravation of my remorse should be wanting, a relative died in India, and left me a handsome fortune; the news arrived only six monthsafter the dreadful catastrophe related. Oh, what to me is wealth ? Will it cleanse my guilty conscience ? Will it restore niy 'murdered child ? Only in one instance has it served me; it enabled me to resmre anonymously, and in enlarged amount, the insurance money so fraudulen'ly and fatally obtained. Yes, rash youth ! I can re-echo with all the intensity of suffering, the prophet's denunciation: ' Wo! wo! to the drunkards of Ephraim.'" The agitated narrator rose from his seat before his horror-stricken auditors had recovered from their shock, at his terrible recital. He was leaving the room with trembling step, when he sank down exhausted with his emotions, on the floor. Dame Etheridge ran,, with fearful eyes, to his assistance ; a little water on his; sunken temples soon revived him, but the expression of his eyes was stangely altered, their unnatural brightness had fled, and a dull film seemed gathering over them ; he refused all further assistance and went alone to his chamber for the night. An nndefmable feeling of anxiety, and dread caused the widow and her son to decide upon sitting up to listen to the movements of their wretched inmate. It is not discreditable, to their hearts to say, that they passed the night in fervent prayer, and deep contrition, undisturbed b}** any sound from their inmate. When the usual hour arrived for calling .him, Dame Etheridge received no answer; she entered hastily, and there, seated in his chair, dressed as he left them on the preceding night, his Bible clasped in his hand, was the unfortunate man. Death! had come, at last to release him from, his weary load "of regret, remorse,, and sin ! y He had been dead some hours. The excitement and humiliation of liis.conf'sslon had been more than his enfeebled frame could bear. An inkstand was before him, and on looking into the pocket bible, the name of William Etheridge was written, with the appropriate text: " Wo nnlo'jhenv that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink." A tedious litigation about his property ensued among his relatives, and perhaps, the only persons who ultimately benefitted by his money were the lawyers.

William Etheridge never forgot the dreadful narrative he«had listened to; and never ceased to value the little book to which such a terrible interest was attached. He, and his good mother also, formed a resolution to abstain from the deadly potions of strong drink; and if at any time, allurements of company, or jests of would-be wits f caused him for a moment to waver, one glance of the line, traced in the agonies of death upon the sacred page,'"re-assured him, arid bade him persevere. William's improved moral and religious habits, combined .with industry, led him- into ■.., a more safe occupation than that he followed at the commencement of our narrative. The pocket bible was of infiuitely more value, as a legacy, than- the money which was so keenly contended for; it became a lamp to his feet and a light to his path, for A glory gilds the sacred page, "'■ ANjesde, like the sun! It jdyt'sa grace to eve; y age— . It,giyeH, lint borrows none.