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"Would you like to try one?" asked the major, politely offering his cigar-case.

"If it would not trespass too much on your kindness."

From that day the major became an object of | odoriferous little clouds escaping from the smokuneasiness to some, of terror to others, of curi-er's lips. osity to all. Whenever he appeared on the public promenade, every one avoided him; at the theatre, his box was generally occupied by himself alone; and each old woman that met him in the street, invariably stopped to cross herself. Major Vernor was never known to enter a church, or accept an invitation: at first, he used to receive a good many of these, and the perfumed billets served him to light his cigars.

Such, then, was the thirteenth juror drawn in the cause of Pierre Granger, and it may easily be understood why the audience were moved at hearing the name of Major Vernor.

The paper of accusation, notwithstanding, drawn up by the attorney-general with a force and particularity of description which horrified the ladies present, was read amidst profound silence, broken only by the snoring of the prisoner, who had deliberately settled himself to sleep. The gendarmes tried to rouse him from his unnatural slumber, but they merely succeeded in making him now and then half-open his dull, brutish eyes.

When the clerk had ceased to read, Pierre Granger was with difficulty thoroughly awakened, and the president proceeded to question him. The interrogatory fully revealed, in all its horror, the thoroughly stupid fiendishness of the wretch. He had killed his wife, he said, because they couldn't agree; he had set his house on fire, because it was a cold night, and he wanted to make a good blaze to warm himself: as to his children, they were dirty, squalling little things-no loss to him or to any one else.

It would be tedious to pursue all the details of this disgusting trial. M. Tourangin and M. Lépervier both made marvelously eloquent speeches, but the latter deserved peculiar credit, having so very bad a cause to sustain. Although he well knew that his client was as thorough a scoundrel as ever breathed, and that his condemnation would be a blessing to society, yet he pleaded his cause with all a lawyer's conscientiousness. When he got to the peroration, he managed to squeeze from his lachrymal glands a few rare tears, the last and most precious, I imagine, which he carefully reserved for an especially solemn occasion —just as some families preserve a few bottles of fine old wine, to be drunk at the marriage of a daughter or the coming of age of a

son.

At length the case closed, and the president was going to sum up; but as the heat in court was excessive, and every one present stood in need of refreshment, leave was given to the jury to retire for half an hour, and the hall was cleared for the same space of time, in order that it might undergo a thorough ventilation. During this interval, while twelve of the jurors were cooling themselves with ices and sherbet, the Thirteenth lighted a cigar, and reclining in an arm-chair, smoked away with the gravity of a Turk.

"What a capital cigar!" sighed one of the jurors, as he watched with an envious eye the

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By no means. You are heartily welcome." The juror took a cigar, and lighted it at that of his obliging neighbor.

"Well! how do you like it?" asked the major. "Delicious! It has an uncommonly pleasant aroma. From whence are you supplied?"

"From the Havana."

Several jurors now approached, casting longing glances on Major Vernor's cigar-case.

"Gentlemen," said he, "I am really grieved that I have not a single cigar left to offer you. having just given the last to our worthy friend. To-morrow, however, I hope to have a fresh supply, and shall then ask you to do me the honor of accepting some."

At that moment an official came in to announce that the court had resumed its sitting; the jury hastened to their box, and the president began his charge. Scarcely had he commenced, however, when the juror who had smoked the cigar rose, and in a trembling voice begged permission to retire, as he felt very ill. Indeed, while in the act of speaking, he fell backward, and lay senseless on the floor.

The president, of course, directed that he should be carefully conveyed to his home, and desired Major Vernor to take his place. Six strokes sounded from the old clock of the Town-hall as the jury retired to deliberate on their verdict in the case of Pierre Granger.

Eleven gentlemen exclaimed with one voice that the wretched assassin's guilt was perfectly clear, and that they could not hesitate for a moment as to their decision. Major Vernor, however, stood up, placed his back against the door, and regarding his colleagues with a peculiarly sinister expression, said slowly: "I shall acquit Pierre Granger, and you shall all do the same!"

"Sir," replied the foreman in a severe tone, "you are answerable to your conscience for your own actions, but I do not see what right you have to offer us a gratuitous insult."

"Am I, then, so unfortunate as to offend you?" asked the major meekly.

Certainly; in supposing us capable of breaking the solemn oath which we have taken to do impartial justice. I am a man of honor-"

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Bah!" interrupted the major; "are you quite sure of that?"

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seemed to strike home to every breast; and at | can appreciate your very rare dexterity in holding length one of the gentlemen said: "You seem, court-cards in your hand, and making the dice sir, to regard the question in a philosophical point turn up as you please.” of view."

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M. Pérou gave an involuntary start, and thenceforward held his peace. The scene, aided by the

"You know me then?" said the juror, in a darkness of approaching night, had now assumed trembling voice.

a terrific aspect. The voice of the major rang in the ears of eleven pale, trembling men, with a cold metallic distinctness, as if each word inflict

"Not very intimately, my dear sir, but just sufficiently to appreciate your fondness for discounting bills at what your enemies might called a blow. usurious interest. I think it was about four years ago that an honest, poor man, the father of a large family, blew out his brains, in despair at being refused by you a short renewal which he had implored on his knees."

Without replying, M. Cernau retired to the furthest corner of the room, and wiped off the large drops of sweat which started from his brow.

"What does this mean?" asked another juror impatiently. "Have we come hither to act a scene from the Memoirs of the Devil?"

“I don't know that work,” replied the major; "but may I advise you, Monsieur de Bardine, to calm your nerves?"

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At length Vernor burst into a strange sharp hissing laugh. "Well, my honorable colleagues,' he exclaimed, "does this poor Pierre Granger still appear to you unworthy of the slightest pity? I grant you he has committed a fault, and a fault which you would not have committed in his place. He has not had your cleverness in masking his turpitude with a show of virtue: that was his real crime. Now, if after having killed his wife, he had paid handsomely for masses to be said for her repose—if he had purchased a burial-ground, and caused to be raised to her memory a beautiful square white marble monument, with a flowery epitaph on it in gold letters-why, then, we should all have shed tears of sympathy, and eulo

Sir, you are impertinent, and I shall certain-gized Pierre Granger as the model of a tender ly do myself the pleasure to chastise you."

"As how?"

"With my sword. I shall do you the honor to meet you to-morrow."

"An honor which, being a man of sense, I must beg respectfully to decline. You don't kill your adversaries, Monsieur de Bardine; you assassinate them. Have you forgotten your duel with Monsieur de Sillar, which took place, as I am told, without witnesses? While he was off his guard, you treacherously struck him through the heart. The prospect of a similar catastrophe is certainly by no means enticing."

husband. Don't you agree with me, Monsieur Norbec ?"

M. Norbec started as if he had received an electric shock. It is false!" he murmured. “I did not poison Eliza: she died of pulmonary consumption."

"True," said the major; "you remind me of a circumstance which I had nearly forgotten. Madame Norbec, who possessed a large fortune in her own right, died without issue, five months after she had made you her sole legatee." Then the major was silent. They were now in total darkness, and the throbbing of many agitated

With an instinctive movement, M. de Bardine's hearts might be heard in the room. Suddenly neighbors drew off.

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I admire such virtuous indignation," sneered the major. "It especially becomes you, Mon

sieur Darin-”

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came the sharp click of a pistol, and the obscurity was for a moment brightened by a flash; but there was no report—the weapon had missed fire. The major burst into a long and loud fit of laughmyter. Charming delightful! Ah, my dear sir," he exclaimed, addressing the foreman, “you were the only honest man of the party, and see how, to oblige me, you have made an attempt on my person, which places you on an honorable level with Pierre Granger!" Then having rung the bell, he called for candles, and when they were brought, ahe said: "Come, gentlemen, I suppose you don't want to sleep here; let us make haste, and finish our business."

"What infamy are you going to cast in teeth?" exclaimed the gentleman addressed. "Oh, very little-a mere trifle-simply, that while Monsieur de Bardine kills his friends, you only dishonor yours. Monsieur Simon, whose house, table, and purse are yours, has a pretty wife-"

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Major," cried another juror, "you are villain!"

Pardon me, my dear Monsieur Calfat, let us call things by their proper names. The only villain among us, I believe, is the man who himself set fire to his house, six months after having insured it at treble its value, in four offices, whose directors were foolish enough to pay the money without making sufficient inquiry."

A stifled groan escaped from M. Calfat's lips as he covered his face with his hands.

"Who are you, that you thus dare to constitute yourself our judge?" asked another, looking fiercely at Vernor.

"Who am I, Monsieur Pérou? simply one who

Ten minutes afterward the foreman handed in the issue paper-a verdict of Not Guilty; and Pierre Granger was discharged amidst the hisses and execrations of the crowd, who, indeed, were prevented only by a strong military force from assaulting both judge and jury. Major Vernor coolly walked up to the dock, and passing his arm under that of Pierre Granger, went out with him through a side-door.

From that hour neither the one nor the other was ever seen again in the country. That night there was a terrific thunder-storm; the ripe har

vest was beaten down by hailstones as large as pigeons' eggs, and a flash of lightning striking the steeple of the old ivy-covered church, tore down its gilded cross.

This strange story was related to me one day last year by a convict in the infirmary of the prison at Toulon. I have given it verbatim from his lips; and as I was leaving the building, the sergeant who accompanied me said, "So, sir, you have been listening to the wonderful rhodomontades of Number 19,788 ?"

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What do you mean?-This history—"

Is false from beginning to end. Number 19,788 is an atrocious criminal, who was sent to the galleys for life, and who, during the last few months, has given evident proofs of mental alienation. His monomania consists chiefly in telling stories to prove that all judges and jurors are rogues and villains. He was himself found guilty, by a most respectable and upright jury, of having robbed and tried to murder Major Vernor. He is now about to be placed in a lunatic asylum, so that you will probably be the last visitor who will hear his curious inventions."

"And who is Major Vernor ?"

"A brave old half-pay officer, who has lived at Toulon, beloved and respected, during the last twelve years. You will probably see him to-day, smoking his Havana cigar, after the table-d'hôte dinner, at the Crown Hotel."

THE DRUNKARD'S BIBLE.

BY MRS. S. C. HALL.

yielding to what is considered a feminine infirmity, she said, "Mathew, what is vampires?"

Mathew made no reply; so Martha-who had been brought up to the bar" by her uncle, while her brother was dreaming over an unproductive farm-troubled as usual about “much serving," and troubling all within her sphere by worn-out and shriveled-up anxieties, as much as by the necessary duties of active life-looked at Mathew as if speculating on his sanity. Could he be thinking of giving up his business, because of that which did not concern him!—but she would "manage him." It is strange how low and cunning persons do often manage higher and better natures than their own.

"Martha," he called at last in a loud voice, "I can not afford to give longer credit to Peter Croft." "I thought he was one of your best customers: he is an excellent workman; his wife has much to do as a clear-starcher; and I am sure he spends every penny he earns here"—such was Martha's answer.

"And more!” replied Mathew, "more! Why, last week the score was eighteen shillings-besides what he paid for."

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'He's an honorable man, Mathew," persisted Martha. "It is not long since he brought me six tea-spoons and a sugar-tongs, when I refused | him brandy (he will have brandy). They must have belonged to his wife, for they had not P. C. on them, but E.-something; I forget what."

I

Mathew waxed wroth. "Have I not told you," he said "have I not told you that we must be "THER HERE is more money made in the public content with the flesh and blood, without the line than in any other, unless it be pawn-bones and marrow of these poor drunkards? broking," said Martha Hownley to her brother; am not a pawn-broker to lend money upon a "and I do not see why you should feel uncom- man's ruin. I sell, to be sure, what leads to it, fortable. You are a sober man: since I have but that is his fault, not mine." kept your house, I never remember seeing you beside yourself; indeed, I know that weeks pass without your touching beer, much less wine or spirits. If you did not sell them, somebody else would. And were you to leave "the Grapes" to-morrow, it might be taken by those who would not have your scruples. All the gentry say your house is the best conducted in the parish-"

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"I wish I really deserved the compliment," interrupted Mathew, looking up from his daybook. I ought not to content myself with avoiding beer, wine, and spirits; if I believe, as I do, that they are injurious alike to the character and health of man, I should, by every means in my power, lead others to avoid them."

"But we must live, Mathew; and your good education would not keep you-we must live!"

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“You said just now it was yours,” said his sister, sulkily.

"Is it a devil or an angel that prompts your words, Martha?" exclaimed Mathew, impatiently; then leaning his pale, thoughtful brow on his clasped hands, he added, "But, however much I sometimes try to get rid of them, it must be for my good to see facts as they are."

Martha would talk: she looked upon a last word as a victory. "He must have sold them whether or not, as he has done all his little household comforts, to pay for what he has honestly drunk; and I might as well have them as any one else. My money paid for them, and in the course of the evening went into your till. It's very hard if, with all my labor, I can't turn an honest penny in a bargain sometimes, without being chid, as if I were a baby."

"I am sorely beset," murmured Mathew, closing the book with hasty violence; "sorely beset; the gain on one side, the sin on the other; and she goads me, and puts things in the worst light: never was man so beset," he repeated, helplessly; and he said truly he was "beset"

by infirmity of purpose-that mean, feeble, pitiful frustrator of so many good and glorious intentions.

It is at once a blessed and a wonderful thing | He replied, "No;" he was "regaining his how the little grain of "good seed" will spring senses." Then Martha thought it best to let up and increase-if the soil be at all productive, him alone; he had been "worse"-that is, achow it will fructify! A great stone may be cording to her reading of the word "worse," placed right over it, and yet the shoot will forth before-taken the "dumps" in the same way, -sideways, perhaps, after a long, noiseless strug- but recovered, and gone back to his business gle amidst the weight of earth-a white, slen- "like a man." der thing, like a bit of thread that falls from the clipping scissors of a little heedless maid-creeps up, twists itself round the stone, a little, pale, meek thing, tending upward-becoming a delicate green in the wooing sunlight-strengthening in the morning, when birds are singing-at mid-day, when man is toiling-at night, while men are sleeping, until it pushes away the stone, and overshadows its inauspicious birth-place with strength and beauty!

Peter Croft, unable to pay up his score, managed, nevertheless, to pay for what he drank. For a whole week, Martha would not listen to his proposals for payment "in kind;" even his wife's last shawl could not tempt her, though Martha confessed it was a beauty; and what possible use could Mrs. Peter have for it now?-it was so out of character with her destitution. She heard no more of it, so probably the wretched husband disposed of it elsewhere: this disappointed her. She might as well have had it; she would not be such a fool again; Mathew was so seldom in the bar that he could not know what she did. Time passed on; Martha thought she saw one or two symptoms of what she con

Yes! where good seed has been sown, there is always hope that, one day or other, it will, despite snares and pitfalls, despite scorn and bitterness, despite evil report, despite temptations, despite those wearying backslidings which give the wicked and the idle scoffers ground for re-sidered amendment in her brother. "Of course," joicing-sooner or later it will fructify!

she argued, "he will come to himself in due

All homage to the good seed!—all homage to time." the good sower!

In the twilight which followed that day, Peter Croft, pale, bent, and dirty, the drunkard's redness in his eyes, the drunkard's fever on his lips. tapped at the door of the room off the bar, which was more particularly Martha's room-it was, in fact, her watch-tower-the door half-glazed, and the green curtain about an inch from the middle division; over this the sharp, observant woman might see whatever occurred, and no one could in or out without her knowledge.

She did not say, "Come in," at once; she longed to know what new temptation he had brought her, for she felt assured he had neither money nor credit left.

And who sowed the good seed in the heart of Mathew Hownley? Truly, it would be hard to tell. Perhaps some sower intent on doing his Master's business-perhaps some hand unconscious of the wealth it dropped-perhaps a young child, brimful of love, and faith, and trust in the bright world around-perhaps some gentle woman, whose knowledge was an inspiration rather than an acquirement-perhaps a bold, true preach-go er of THE WORD, stripping the sinner of the robe that covered his deformity, and holding up his cherished sins as warnings to the world; perhaps it was one of Watts's hymns, learned at his nurse's knee (for Mathew and Martha had endured the unsympathizing neglect of a motherless childhood), a little line, never to be forgotten-a whisper, soft, low, enduring—a comfort in trouble, a stronghold in danger, a refuge from despair. O what a world's wealth is there in a simple line of childhood's poetry! Martha herself often quoted the Busy Bee; but her bee had no wings; it could muck in the wax, but not fly for the honey. As to Mathew, wherever the seed had come from, there, at all events, it was, struggling, but existing-biding its time to burst forth, to bud, and to blossom, and to bear fruit!

The exposure concerning the spoons and sugar tongs made Mathew so angry, that Martha wish ed she had never had any thing to do with them; but instead of avoiding the fault, she simply resolved in her own mind never again to let Mathew know any of her little transactions in the way of buying or barter-that was all!

And yet she feared-" Mathew made such a worry out of every little thing." The next time he tapped at the window of the door, her eyes met his over the curtain, and then she said, “Come in," in a penetrating sharp voice, which was any thing but an invitation.

"I have brought you something now, Miss Hownley, that I know you won't refuse to lend me a trifle on," said the ruined tradesman; "I am sure you won't refuse, Miss Hownley. Bad as I want the money, I could not take it to a pawn-broker; and if the woman asks for it, I can say I lent it, Miss Hownley; you know I can say that.”

Peter Croft laid a BIBLE on the table, and folding back the pages with his trembling fingers, showed that it was abundantly illustrated by fine engravings. Martha loved "pictures;" she had taken to pieces a Pilgrim's Progress, and varying the devotional engravings it had contained with abundant cuttings out from illustrated newspapers, and a few colored caricatures, had cover

Mathew, all that day, continued more thoughtful and silent than usual, which his sister considered a bad sign: he was reserved to his cus-ed one side of a screen, which, when finished. tomers-nay, worse-he told a woman she should not give gin to her infant at his bar, and positively refused, the following Sunday, to open his house at all. Martha asked him if he was mad.

she considered would be at once the comfort and amusement of her old age. After the drunkard had partially exhibited its contents, he stood by with stolid indifference, while she measured the

engravings with her eye, looking ever and anon | toward the screen. Very well," she said, uttering a deliberate untruth with her lips, while her mind was made up what to do-"very well; what did you say you wanted for it?" He repeated the sum; she took out exactly half, and laid the shining temptation on the table before him.

"Have you the heart, Miss Hownley," he said, while fingering, rather than counting the money -"have you the heart to offer me such a little for such a great deal?"

past, that they which do such things shall NOT INHERIT THE KINGDOM OF GOD."

"New and Old, New and Old," murmured Mathew to himself" I am condemned alike by the Old and the New Testament." He had regarded intoxication and its consequences heretofore as a great social evil; the fluttering rags and the fleshless bones of the drunkard and his family, the broils, the contentions, the ill-feeling, the violence, the murders wrought by the dread spirit of alcohol had stood in array before him as social crimes, as social dangers; but he did not call to mind, if he really knew, that the Word of God exposed alike its destruction and its sinfulness. He was one of the many who, however good and moral in themselves, shut their ears against the

If you have the heart to sell it, I may have the heart to offer such a price," she answered, with a light laugh; "and it is only a DRUNKARD'S BIBLE!" Peter Croft dashed the money from him with voice of the charmer, charm he ever so wisely; a bitter oath. and though he often found wisdom and consola

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"Oh, very well," she said; "take it or leave tion in a line of Watts's hymns, he rarely went it."

She resumed her work.

The only purpose to which a drunkard is firm, is to his own ruin. Peter went to the door, returned, took up the money. Another shilling, miss-it will be in the till again before morning."

Martha gave him the other shilling; and after he was fairly out of the room, grappled the book, commenced looking at the pictures in right earnest, and congratulated herself on her good bargain. In due time, the house was cleared, and she went to bed, placing the Bible on the top of her table, among a miscellaneous collection of worn-out dusters and tattered glass-cloths, "waiting to be mended."

That night the master of "the Grapes" could not sleep; more than once he fancied he smelt fire; and after going into the unoccupied rooms, and peeping through the keyholes, and under the doors of those that were occupied, he descended to the bar, and finally entering the little bar-parlor, took his day-book from a shelf, and placing the candle, sat down, listlessly turning over its leaves, but the top of the table would not shut, and raising it to remove the obstruction, Mathew saw a large family BIBLE; pushing away the day-book, he opened the sacred volume.

It opened at the 23d chapter of Proverbs, and, as if guided by a sacred light, his eyes fell upon the 29th verse, and he read:

"Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contentions? who hath babbling? who hath wounds without cause? who hath redness of eyes!

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They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed wine.

"Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright.

"At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder."

He dashed over the leaves in fierce displeasure, and, as if of themselves, they folded back at the 5th of Galatians: "Envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like: of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time

to the Fountain of living waters for the strengthening and refreshing of his soul. He turned over the chapter, and found on the next page a collection of texts, written upon a strip of paper in the careful hand of one to whom writing was evidently not a frequent occupation.

Proverbs, the 23d chap.-" For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty, and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags." 1 Corinthians, 6th chap. 10th verse-" Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God."

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Again that awful threat!" murmured Mathew; and have I been the means of bringing so many of my fellow-creatures under its ban?"

1 Samuel, the 1st chap." And Eli said unto her, How long wilt thou be drunken? put away thy wine from thee." Luke 21-"And take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares."

"Ay, THAT DAY," repeated the landlord-" that day, the day that must come."

Ephesians, 5th chap." And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit." Proverbs, 20th chap.-"Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise." Woe to thee who selleth wine to thy neighbour, and mingleth strong drink to his destruction."

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He rose from the table, and paced up and down the little room; no eye but His who seeth all things looked upon the earnestness and agitation of that man; no ear but the All-hearing heard his sighs, his half-muttered prayers to be strengthened for good. He said within himself: "Who will counsel me in this matter?-to whom shall I fly for sympathy?—who will tell me what I ought to do?-how remedy the evils I have brought on others while in this business, even when my heart was alive to its wickedness?" He had no friend to advise with-none who would do aught but laugh at and ridicule the idea of giving up a good business for conscience' sake; but so it was that it occurred to him-" You have an Immortal Friend, take counsel of Him-pray

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