VOL. I.] A Journal of Choice Reading, SELECTED FROM FOREIGN CURRENT LITERATURE. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1866. THE SWINDLER AS ARTIST. THE Swindlers should form an Academy. As with the other middle classes of Great Britain,- for we take it the true rank of a swindler in the criminal world is between a burglar and a thief, they have the virtue of industry, and they produce results; but they are terribly deficient both in intelligence and style. Mr. Matthew Arnold would despise them heartily, even if they had contrived to cheat him out of a five-pound note. They are always doing something which, even when efficient, is exceedingly clumsy and offensive to persons penetrated with a just sense of the value of the ideal in art. They embezzle, for instance, with some success, and in great numbers; but embezzlement usually is nothing but theft under very easy circumstances. A person trusted with money steals it, and absconds, an operation about as artistic as the construction of the brick box with holes in it which is called in London a house. If a professional indeed has obtained his situation with the view to embezzle, studied his employer's character and books, and embezzled at the precise moment when embezzlement is most profitable, then, indeed, his work is redeemed from vulgarity, and he may go to Portland with a serene consciousness that he has displayed intelligence lifting him quite out of the rank of mere industrials. -- But few men have the ability for harmonious scoundrelism of this kind. They prefer simpler or more brutal expedients. Forgery, for instance, in the absence of an Academy which would enforce sound laws, strikes them as really artistic, and they are always forging. In reality forgery is to, true swindling what photography is to art, it produces a great result, but by purely mechanical means. There is no possibility of style about it, for a mere imitation of handwriting does not allow of style, and the labor of ascertaining the state of an account requires very little thought, while the personation sometimes essential is, after all, an inferior though necessary accomplishment. The power of "getting up" well does not constitute a good actor. A professional forger may of course belong to a high order of swindlers, just as a photographer may be an artist, but the business itself is not within the domain of art. Ordering goods, too, and selling them without paying has usually very little merit, though it is sometimes redeemed from its commonplace nature by the adoption of a title, or the use of an aristocratic name, or some appeal to the dealer's vanity, or other peculiarity of disposition which requires thought and may indicate some faint trace of genius. The man who, for example, lived recently [No. 9. for some weeks as a peer, taking a name now little known, was at least as high as an ordinary forger. A swindle was recently committed in the South of France which at first sight looked as if a great artist in swindling had appeared. A "Greek Prince" took rooms in a hotel in Marseilles, declaring himself on his way to Paris, bought horses, lived at an enormous rate, borrowed fifteen hundred francs of his landlord, professed to have fallen in love with a girl he saw in the train, and actually arranged with her family a contract of marriage which read very like a sale of the young lady by her brother. The Prince was a convict, and his success in duping so many persons whose interest it was not to be duped, and in availing himself of the prevalent belief that the arrival of a Greek Prince was a possibility, and the universal ignorance of what Greek Princes would be like, showed a fine and perceptive mind. But then it was immensely stupid to declare himself a Turkish subject when Turkey had a consul in the port, and to forge Turkish bills of exchange. The first man of common sense who got oneit happened to be the young lady's brother took the document to the consulate, the bubble exploded, and Prince Kallimaki was speedily in a prison again. - So, too, in the remarkably clever swindle related in the Times there is one evidence of vulgarity. Most of the incidents are artistic in the very highest degree, but there is a defect in style. A gentleman, it appears, who wished to let his house in Berkeley Square, was informed that a Mr. Montefiore was willing to take it, and called on him to arrange the lease. Mr. Montefiore thereupon informed him that he did not want the house, but had asked for it because he wished to relieve its owner's embarrassments, and prevent the sale of a place he might afterwards require. An offer so unexpected and unusual would of course have excited suspicion; but the swindler, with really high feeling for his art, had prevented this by adopting the only name which carries with it a presumption of benevolence, as Rothschild does of wealth. The owner accepting the offer, Mr. Montefiore told him that a bank with which he had influence would open a credit for him, provided he paid in £500. Had this been done, he would doubtless have offered in the kindest way to take the money to the bank, and have bolted with it, but the victim had not so much at hand. With a sang froid of the most creditable kind, Mr. Montefiore explained that it did not signify, that £200 would do, and that he himself would lend, to be repaid the following morning, the remainder. A check for £200 was produced, Mr. Montefiore showed another for £300, which under the circum stances was not examined, and drove his victim to a | bank, where he pretended to get both cashed and really got one, and then to Rothschild's bank, where he disappeared with his plunder, leaving his victim in the cab. To make the fraud still more perfect, there is a Mr. Montefiore in the bank, and on Mr. inquiring if he was there, he was answered of course in the affirmative, a reply which gave the swindler nearly an hour more in which to escape pursuit. in this way. The watchman with his family, if he should possess one, lives rent-free in his airy castle, is supplied with firewood and lights, and is allowed a certain stipend. Those who have been accustomed to the tower-life do not often willingly descend to take up their abode amongst ordinary mortals. I have been told by an old couple, who had given up the watch to take to some more lucrative occupation, that the change of air agreed with them so ill, and that they had so strong an impression that they must be suffocated if they remained below, as to induce them to return to their home in the clouds. The woman told me that her mother had been born, married, and died in a tower, and that she had fol and he forthwith tolls a bell which sets all the large bells in the town going in an incredibly short space of time. This is called a Sturm Glocke, and doubtless many a "song of the bell" could be written about such, since Schiller composed his poem, which forcibly describes a calamity so often occurring, yet bringing with it ever new terror and dismay. The outburst of these dreaded tongues is followed in many places, as in Saxe-Weimar, by the firing of canon; two such signals being given if the accident Now here we have nearly the perfect swindler, happens in the town itself, and one only if beyond the consummate actor, who marks his victim, un- the gates, or in a neighboring village. In the former derstands his circumstances and character, lays a case, this explosion is succeeded by blowing of trumplot involving little danger at the outset, meets an pets, shouting, and barking of dogs; or after a while unexpected difficulty with complete self-possession, this Dutch concert is somewhat drowned by the and in the kindest, most charitable, and most gentle- bassoon-like rumbling of the heavy fire-engines manly manner robs the man who trusted in his effu- drawn by their four or six black steeds along the siveness. There is, however, one blot. "Mr. Mon-rough-pitched stone pavement. To be thus awaktefiore" is liable when detected to rather severe ened, after one's first sleep, is, it is needless to say, penalties, and we take it the ideal swindler, is the far from agreeable; it was long before I could comman who, doing all he did, and doing it as delicate-pose myself to rest again, after my first experience ly, would at the end of it all be only within the grasp of the civil magistrate. To swindle so as to be imprisoned is a defect in art, showing want of culture and sense of proportion, an act very inferior in intelligence to a bankruptcy with property concealed, or other unpunished chef d'œuvre. It is like building a beautiful structure on a morass, and indicates a defect either of knowledge or of patience, inconsistent with the highest order of genius. That rank belongs to a performer in a little drama we heard of the other day, who, if he really exists, and we have no personal knowledge of the facts, ought to be made President of the Swindlers' Academy. He actually devised a safe form of swindling. He opened an account with a bank in the city, and com-lowed in her steps in two instances, and hoped to do menced a practice of paying in his office balance every evening and drawing it out every morning. He did not like, he said, to leave so much money, usually some thousands, in the office. The practice, though unusual, was tolerated for some weeks, and on the last day the check presented as usual. It was not till it had been paid, and the money lost, that the clerk discovered the cash had not, as usual, been paid in. The drawer had relied with a curious knowledge of human nature on the influence of habit, and the dislike of men to display unnecessary suspicion, and the dislike of all banks to do anything so violent as refuse an unsuspected customer's check. On the other hand, the swindler knew perfectly that if the check were refused it would be in the ordinary way by a mere memorandum of "Insufficient effects," and now that it is paid he is only in the position of a customer who has overdrawn and is liable to civil process. That little fraud, if it really occurred as we believe, is artistic swindling, and may almost reconcile the Mr. Arnold of the profession, whoever he is, to the blundering clumsiness of most of the fraternity, who seem to imagine, as such wretched industrials do, that if the result is attained, theft and swindling are almost the same thing. As well confuse architecture and London house-building. THE WATCH-TOWER. In almost every German town there is a watchtower; sometimes it is a separate building, but generally the highest church-tower is used for this purpose; if a fire should by any chance break out, whether by day or by night, the watchman is sure to observe it, if he is, as he should be, at his post, so in the third, when her time came. "Down in the town," said she," there is always so much gossiping and backbiting going on, and I dare say that I should become as bad as the rest if I lived there; but up in my loft there is peace and fresh air, and we do not trouble ourselves about our neighbors,—indeed we scarcely feel that we have any to trouble about.” I happened, in the early part of last autumn, to be visiting the chief town of Ober Hessen, Giessen, whose university I was wishing to see; and after satisfying my curiosity as to that ancient receptacle of learning, I turned my steps towards the still more ancient watch-tower, from whose height, I was told, I should get a good view of the surrounding scenery, so justly esteemed for its beauty. On reaching the dwelling part of the building I was greeted by the observant occupant himself, who at my request escorted me to the gallery, which was a wide one; and, arranged in rows around the outer side, stood a number of flowering shrubs and plants. This sudden and unexpected burst of brightness was a glad surprise to the eye, after resting so long upon the cold gray gloom of the stone walls and steps during the ascent, and it was with something of the same kind of feeling that a released prisoner must experience when he steps from his dungeon into the free air of heaven, that I stepped out upon this little garden of fresh verdure and brilliant blossoms, hanging as it were in the sky; and the view here was a still greater surprise; for indeed it is a fine and comprehensive one. To the right, the Schiffenberg, with its old church rising bare from behind its wooded ascent, among whose wandering paths the townsfolk love to disport themselves on Sundays and feast days. To the left, Gleiberg, on whose summit stands an ancient though lately repaired tower, the Sieben Hü geln, and the river Lahn flowing round by the hill and ruin of Badenburg; in the middle distance, fruit orchards lying warm and ruddy in the ripening August sun. The Germans call this month "der koch monat," the grapes being then supposed to undergo a process which turns their sour juice into the sunlit nectar which wine is capable of representing. After feasting my eyes on the landscape below, I turned towards the keeper of the little paradise on which I was standing, and complimented him upon the good taste which led him to adorn his balcony, so as to render it so attractive. 66 Yes, madame, this is indeed a pleasant place to sit down and repose in, when I get up here, away from the heat and bustle of the noisy, dusty world beneath. My wife brought the coffee here for breakfast, after which meal I smoked my pipe, and enjoyed the fresh morning air. Ah, in spring-time, how delicious were those early hours, listening to the singing birds, beginning with solos and twitterings, and at length breaking into one gush of song! Yes, those May mornings are delightful,' the fruittrees one sheet of blossom, whose odor rising on the breeze excels any toilet-perfumes that I know of. Here, too, on Sunday afternoons and evenings in summer, how charming it has been to sit, with my wife and children around me, watching the fading sky and the stars twinkle out one by one, and then, when all is hushed, and the world below asleep, O how I love to lie here and watch, not only the town, as is my duty, but the moon as she glides behind the clouds, or sheds down her unveiled light from the deep vault above me. How often do I pity the poor townspeople, who have to breathe the thick, smoky, ill-smelling atmosphere under me, whilst I am inhaling the pure breath of heaven. A friend of mine has remarked to me, that when he has anything of a perplexing nature to think about, or to determine, he likes to come up here, where, apart from all that distracts attention in the underworld, he can more readily come to a conclusion; and Herrn Hackländer" (the Dickens of Germany, you must know, reader), "who once came up to look about him, told me, that this round balcony would be worth thousands of guldens a year to him. Yes, the place is nice enough to live in,- but," continued the watchman, with a sigh, “we cannot remain in it. I am going to remove my furniture; my wife and the children are already gone away." "What is your reason?" inquired I, becoming interested in the man. "We have had so many frights, and such a fearful accident here, that my poor wife's nerves are quite broken down, and I fear for her intellect, if she were to live in this tower any longer. She and the little ones are now lodging with some neighbors, if I can call those such who live so far beneath us, and out of our range as it were. They shall never put foot in this place again. We have had now three frights, and it is in consequence of the last, and the accident which caused it, that I came to the decision of removing as soon as possible." "Will you tell me about the three occasions on which you and your wife were so much alarmed?" I asked. Willingly," replied he, offering me a wicker seat. "Those flowers opposite to you, madame, I placed as an additional protection to that of the iron railing, in consequence of the second fright we had, which happened about six months ago. But I will take them in order as they come. To begin with the first, which is as trifling an affair, compared with the second, as that is compared again with the third, the shock from which I fear my wife will never entirely recover, to begin, I say, with the first, I must explain that we have a windlass, by which we draw up our firewood and water from below, and which is fixed in the upper landing of the tower; the rope attached to it passes through a hole in the building, along a leaden pipe, which holds it out at about six feet distance from the wall outside, from whence it is let down when required into the lane beneath. There is a large wooden tray, which is hooked on to the rope, and filled with wood below; my wife and I, assisted by our eldest boy, generally hauled up the wood, whilst the younger children, at least those who were old enough, for we have a large family, loaded the tray. We drew up our firing in this way once every day, usually in the afternoon or evening. We were thus employed one evening, when my wife remarked that the burden felt very light, and that those careless children of ours must have been playing about, and so neglected to fill the tray as full as usual. We had not long to wind, for the tray came up quickly, and on going up aloft to pull it over the balcony rails, which was our way of getting it in, to our astonishment and horror, instead of our firewood, we beheld a man, yes, a man! pale as death, and with black swollen hands hanging on by the long iron hook, which fastened the rope to the tray, which had swung round, and offered no longer any support in consequence. Here The luckless wight appeared to be almost in a fainting condition, and unable to speak from exhaustion. Had he moved a finger, he would have been in danger of falling, and it seemed to us, that ere we could possibly rescue him his strength must fail him, and he would become incapable of holding on any longer. The glazed look of terror in the poor fellow's eyes haunts me to this day. It was no easy matter to get him out of his predicament, as we found when we began to try, and it was a nervous touch-and-go work. Our hands trembled the more, from our conviction of the fact that the man's life entirely depended on our strength and the skill with which we exerted it. Recollect, the rope hung six feet from the wall, and that although it was an easy thing to fasten upon the large square surface of the tray, which came, of itself, much nearer, it was a very difficult matter to lay hold of the human being, hanging from the hook, at such a distance. was a dilemma: what was to be done? The process of letting him down by the windlass would have taken too long a time, I saw, for the man appeared to be on the point of swooning. An idea struck me! Rushing down stairs, I quickly returned with my walking-stick, and-ah! was I too late?-it was the work of a second-life or death, which was it to be?-which did it prove? the first of these contingencies, thank God! I succeeded in hitching the crooked handle of the stick into the man's belt, and, thus pulling him within range of us, we caught hold of him by the head and by the feet at once, and lifted him over the railings. He was one of the ballet-dancers, whom I happened, being myself engaged at the theatre, to know, and a married man with a family. As soon as he was safe, my wife let out upon him, scolding him soundly for his wickedness in frightening her and exposing his life, of which, for his wife and children's sake, he should have taken more care. She turned him down stairs before he had half time to recover himself, telling him never to ascend, either by the outside or the inside, to our dwelling again. He had made a foolish bet, it afterwards turned out, with some students | ing up her attention so long, hurried down the stairs, who happened to be passing at the time the tray and fearing that the child was killed (she had not was let down, that he would get into it, and so get stopped to look for it, I heard afterwards), not liking hauled up. He, however, little thought that there to face her master and mistress, ran straight back to was any danger of the tray's turning round from un- her home in the Oden Wald. der him when he had got part way up, as it did, or of the difficulty presented, of his getting into the balcony when once up at the top. His insufficient weight, and his position on the tray, had not balanced it properly, and owing to this his seat had slid from under him, and he had clung to the iron hook to save him from falling. "And, now, madame, I am coming to the fearful accident which happened to us about a fortnight ago, -the recollection of which makes it impossible for us to remain here. My wife was attacked by brain fever the day after that which I am going to relate took place, and from this she is only now slowly recovering. She was ill in bed when this happened, and when I left the tower on the after The I had to practise a difficult solo accompaniment for the opera that evening, and had in consequence gone to the theatre much earlier than usual. children were all at school, excepting the two youngest, who were under the care of our maid-of-all-work. She had put the baby to sleep in its cradle in my wife's room, and had taken away the little boy, who is about two years and a half old, to put on his walking-dress, intending to take the child with her on an errand which she had to do in the town. She had, however, to wait until our oldest girl should return from school, as she could not leave my wife alone. After laying the child's clothes on a chair ready to put on, she took him with her to go and open the door to some one who had rung the bell, and had afterwards been gossiping a long time on the stairs with this individual, who had proved to be a friend of hers, without paying proper attention to the little boy, who had in the mean time slipped back into the children's room. This was the clearest account of the matter that I could get given me, when I came to inquire afterwards of the servant, how it was that she could have been so negligent. My wife told me that she awoke some time after I had gone (it must have been with a strange presentiment that some evil had befallen our boy), and getting as quickly out of bed as she could, she ran out on the landingplace, exclaiming, My Ludwig, my Ludwig, where is he?" The servant, running up from the stairs, explained that he had been by her side only an instant ago, and that he could not be very far off. My wife and the servant then searched in every direction for him, but no Ludwig was to be found. "The next affair, which was more alarming in its way, happened in this wise. One day a servant-noon of which I am going to speak she was asleep. maid brought up a child of about two years old. She was accompanied by a soldier. People did not always ring the bell, but if the door was open they would pass through and on to the balcony. I did not always follow the visitors out, but as this party remained a longer time than was usual, I went up to see what they were about. The girl was, as I supposed, talking and laughing with her schatz [lover]; but where was the child? ah! where? In going round the tower to look for it, I saw to my unutterable horror that the little fellow was standing on one of the stone buttresses which supported the balustrade, having evidently got out to it between a gap in the railings. No grown person could have found standing-room where his little feet were perched. I felt a tingling sensation creep all over me; what should I do? My first impulse was to call out to the child, and to rush up to it to pull it away; but on reflection I felt almost sure that this would lead to fatal consequences, as the child would probably thus be frightened, and fall over. What then, you will ask, did I do in this emergency? I laid myself at length along the floor, and creeping that way unperceived up to the spot where he stood, I cautiously reached one hand through the rails, and caught the child by the petticoats; then rising, with the other I lifted him over the balustrade, and thus effected the rescue. After I had him safe, I looked at him, and fancied that I had seen his black eyes and curly pate before, and when I noticed the initials on his pinafore, I recognized the boy as belonging to an acquaintance of ours. I took him in my arms, and purposely avoiding the still preoccupied nurse-maid, carried the child down. He never ceased staring at me with his large eyes till I had restored him to his mother, who, I need scarcely tell you, overwhelmed me with expressions of gratitude; and this ring," pointing to a handsome signet which he wore, in the fashion of his country, on the forefinger, "is a token of it. She and her husband then promised me to help me in any difficulty I might be in at any time, and we have now put their sincerity to the test, for my family are now receiving the good people's hospitality, sharing their roof and partaking of their bread until such time as I shall be able to procure a new one for them, which shortly I hope to do. But to return to what I was telling you it did not take long to carry the child home. On returning here, I found the servant in a fine state of alarm, having just discovered the loss of her charge. She was frantically rushing about, and now and then looking over the parapet. When she saw me, she sprang towards me, beseeching me to assist her to find the child. I told her to go below and seek for it under the tower in the yard; that she alone was responsible, and that I had nothing to do with this sad business. She, followed by the soldier, whom she was abusing soundly for tak "In the nursery there was a chair standing by the window; and on it a little shoe, one of his, was lying. A sudden fear took possession of my wife; she tottered to the window, which was open, and, after a moment's hesitation, an instant of dread to know the worst, the truth,—which she suspected, she looked out; and there, on the pavement two hundred feet below, lay the body of her child,- for alive he could not be. Rushing down stairs just as she was, in her night-dress, my poor wife ran wildly into the little narrow street or lane which lay immediately under the window from which the dear child had fallen. This was not much used as a thoroughfare, and at the moment she reached it there happened to be nobody there. How shall I express to you, madame, the surprise, the consternation of my wife and the servant, when, on hurrying to the spot where they expected to behold the child's shapeless mangled corpse, they found nothing. Here was a mystery to be solved! By this time the screams of the two women had roused the attention of the neighbors, who came running to them from the next street, close by. "Where, where is the child?' was the reiterated cry passed on from mouth to mouth, till at last the เ watching my little boy for some time playing at the window, and that she had seen him throw out first the hat, and then what seemed to her like some garment, and seeing that he was leaning over to look at the things drop, she had turned to come away and to warn us about him, when, casting a last look at the window before doing so, she saw the child tumble out of it, and then she made as much speed to tell us as possible. lane was full of people asking each other the same | ished all hope. She told me that she had been question. Some of them, not knowing the immediate cause of my wife's distress, and struck by her unusual appearance, believing her mad, laid hold of her, and forcing her back into the building, and up into her room, endeavored to quiet her the best way they could. But no one could answer her repeated question, Where is my Ludwig? where is his poor body? Ah, where indeed was it! Before she had wellnigh been carried up stairs, however, a woman who had with breathless haste made her way into the lane, hurried up, saying that she had something important to say, and on being admitted she forthwith told my wife that she had seen the child fall from one of the upper windows, and had instantly hastened down from the top of the house where she lived, and which commanded a partial view of the tower. There was, then, no doubt of his having_fallen, — no doubt of the poor child's destruction. But again the question,-What had, what could have become of the body? The general consternation increased, as indeed it well might this was an unparalleled mystery. The woman who had seen him fall was of course more wonderstruck than the rest were, to find that the child was not to be found alive or dead. "Her account appeared to be very connected, and we felt that it was all too convincing. There was only just this one little incongruity in her tale, and that was, that the clothes were seen lying under a different window, though one close at hand, to that from which the woman said she saw him throw them out. "Night was advancing by this time, and getting rid of the numerous sympathizing intruders upon our privacy, I shut the door upon all the world, and, closeted with my wife, whom I succeeded in somewhat quieting, we gave ourselves up to our grief; and various were our conjectures as to the probable or possible fate of our poor little Ludwig. Some of my friends had informed the police, and emissaries were sent in every direction to endeavor to procure "After receiving this intelligence, it was of course tidings of the child's body, whose disappearance perfectly hopeless to make any further search for the seemed to be so perfectly unaccountable. At length poor child in the tower, for, as he had been seen to I persuaded my wife to lie down; the bigger chilfall, he could not be anywhere inside the dwelling; dren some kind neighbors had taken charge of to the body must be sought for, must be found, out of lighten our cares in our distress; the baby, therefore, the tower; that was clear to the astounded assem-alone remained. I had carried the little creature in blage in my wife's room. A messenger was de- to my wife, and had laid it in her arms to comfort spatched to tell me that something had happened at her; and as she was gazing on its calm face as it home to require my immediate return. I was tak- slept, her tears began to flow, which was what I ing my part in the overture to the opera, and the wanted: I knew that nature would in this way recurtain was about to draw up in obedience to the lieve itself, for I feared, as I have said before, for her sound of the bell, when I was thus interrupted. reason. Ay, madame, such things have driven peoDropping my violin, I made my way out of the the-ple mad before now; and it is to the wonder of all atre with trembling limbs and a sinking heart, conjecturing all kinds of dreadful misfortunes to have happened. By the time I reached our little street, I could hardly get by for the mob, which was filling it up to the very door of the tower, and part of the way up the steps. But as soon as I was recognized, way was made for me with one consent. On all sides I heard, There is the child's father!' It was then something which had happened to one of the children. My suspense was soon ended, when I heard from my wife and those around her what had happened. I'immediately determined to go at once to the police, and instigate a proper inquiry as to the child; when, just as I was going out of the tower, a man brushed by me, but seeing who I was, turned and put into my hand-what? a child's hat and pelisse. These I instantly recognized as belonging to my little boy. เ I live at the end of Tower Lane,' said the man; 'my little girl has brought me home these things, which she tells me she picked up about half an hour ago, as she was passing under the tower, and of course I thought they might belong to you.' "It was then only the clothes that my wife had A dawning of hope began to awaken within me: was it possible that the woman had mistaken the clothes falling for the child falling, and that it was all untrue, and the dear child would still be found? seen. "I went immediately back to my wife and the people up stairs, amongst whom the woman who said she had seen him fall was still loitering. I put some eager questions to her, but her replies ban that she retains her senses, after all she has gone through. I saw that my wife was very quiet, and, fancying she had dropped into a kind of sleep, I slipped out of the room, and calling the servant to bring a light, I determined once more to search the place thoroughly, inside and out, although this had, they told me, been done before. We visited the cellar and every nook and corner that could be thought of, but all to no purpose; no, it did really appear as if this extraordinary affair would never be cleared up. No news came from the town, from any of the many messengers employed in the inquiry, and it was with a heavy, despairing heart that I returned to my wife. As soon as I entered her room, she put up her finger, whispering, 'Listen; stand still here by the bed.' Doing as she desired me, I looked at her in wonder at her meaning, and fearful that her mind was wandering. 666 "Do you hear anything, Wilhelm ?' said she. Yes, wife, I do hear something, and it sounds very like a human voice, - a child's voice crying out in distress.' "It seemed to come from somewhere outside the walls. "Yes,' said my wife, as soon as you were gone, and all was quiet, I fancied I heard it first.' "The sound was faint, as if distant, and as of a child wailing and calling for help. We opened the window, and could hear it more distinctly. It did not seem to proceed from either over or under our window, but from somewhere at the side of the walls. We took our light and went into the children's room, the window of which we opened; but though we |