This was the case in the instance here related.  Some were for having the body of the martyred Eugene exhumed, to see if there were any marks of violence visible.  Some proposed to raise a collection to have a monument raised on his grave, and all unanimously condemned Gulvert’s cruelty to the “dear little child.”  What principally turned the current and force of public opinion against Gulvert was, that he was impudent enough to go and demand restitution of Parson Waistcoat, of the money that, on account of his recommendation, he advanced to the runaway converts.  And the parson, to be revenged on Gulvert, on next meeting day called on the congregation for their prayers, to save said Gulvert from the relapsing gulf into which he had fallen.  The parson, enraged at being held accountable for the money lost by Gulvert, through his own “want of godliness,” as he termed it, and incensed on account of Gulvert’s declaration of deserting his church, held him up continually as a stray sheep, and already, if not lost, far advanced on the broad way to perdition.  In the midst of this excitement, the progress of public feeling against Gulvert was suddenly checked by the following afflicting and sudden accidents.

The wife of Gulvert, being a Boston lady, of course was altogether in favor of the Sons of Temperance; but, by some means or other, she happened always to keep a little in the house for medicinal purposes.  It was well known, among the well informed, that this lady, having been “jilted,” or, in other words, deceived, by a merchant in her native city, who promised to marry her, was subject to frequent melancholy attacks, and on these occasions especially did she make use of “medicinal brandy.”  She suffered from one of these periodical attacks now, and, consequently, the medicinal glass was always within her reach.  On the small stand by her bed stood two tumblers, one containing the medicinal “eau de vie,” and the other was half full of vinegar.

She ordered Jane, on this fatal day, to pour a little laudanum into that tumbler that contained the vinegar, to see if, by applying it to her temples, it would not allay the terrible headache which she said had tormented her.  Instead of pouring the poison into the vinegar glass, where would the Scotch Abigail empty the cruet but into the tumbler with the brandy in it?  Her mistress soon after quaffed off the liquor into which the poisonous drug had been poured, and in an hour after she was a lifeless corpse.  This was not all; for, on the day of the funeral, young Harry, Mr. Gulvert’s son and heir, in order to show his devotion to his beloved parent’s remains, was all the morning busy in collecting flowers with which to deck the room where she was laid in state, and, attempting to reach a flower that grew out of the side of a deep, deserted well, in the lower end of the garden, the little fellow fell in and was drowned.  “When the feet of them who buried” Mrs. Gulvert “were at the door,” they found