of his sister’s marriage, and he listened with
sorrow to the story of her bereavement and other misfortunes.
“You must now place a double value upon our
family ring,” said he, as he replaced the lost
treasure upon his sister’s hand; “for it
is this diamond ring which has restored to each other
the brother and sister who otherwise might never have
met again on earth. And now, both you and your
daughter must prepare for a voyage to dear old England.
You need have no anxiety for the future; I have enough
for us all and you shall want no more.”
Before leaving the City, accompanied by her brother,
Mrs. Harris visited the grave of her husband; and
the generous brother attended to the erection of a
suitable tombstone, as the widow had before been unable
to meet the expenses of it. Passing through the
Upper Province they reached Montreal, whence they
sailed for England. After a prosperous voyage
they found themselves amid the familiar scenes of
their childhood, where they still live in the enjoyment
of as much happiness as usually falls to the lot of
mortals.
On a sultry afternoon in midsummer I was walking on
a lonely unfrequented road in the Township of S. My
mind was busily occupied, and I paid little attention
to surrounding objects till a hollow, unnatural voice
addressed me, saying: “Look up my friend,
and behold the unfortunate man.” I raised
my eyes suddenly, and, verily, the appearance of the
being before me justified his self-bestowed appellation—the
unfortunate man. I will do my best to describe
him, although I am satisfied that my description will
fall far short of the reality. He was uncommonly
tall, and one thing which added much to the oddity
of his appearance was the inequality of length in
his legs, one being shorter by several inches than
the other, and, to make up for the deficiency, he
wore on the short leg a boot with a very high heel.
He seemed to be past middle age, his complexion was
sallow and unhealthy, he was squint-eyed, and his
hair, which had once been of a reddish hue, was then
a grizzly gray. Taken all together he was a strange
looking object, and I soon perceived that his mind
wandered. At first I felt inclined to hurry onward
as quickly as possible, but, as he seemed harmless
and inclined to talk to me, I lingered for a few moments
to listen to him. “I do not wonder,”
said he, “that you look upon me with pity, for
it is a sad thing for one to be crazy.”
Surprised to find him so sensible of his own situation
I said: “As you seem so well aware that
you are crazy, perhaps you can inform me what caused
you to become so.” “Oh yes,”
replied he, “I can soon tell you that:
first my father died, then my mother, and soon after
my only sister hung herself to the limb of a tree with
a skein of worsted yarn; and last, and worst of all,
my wife, Dorcas Jane, drowned herself in Otter Creek.”
Wondering if there was any truth in this horrible
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