"You are rather wild, Bell, in your suspicions." said Mr. Mortimer. "You said there was something of a painful nature which it was necessary I should know," said Bell. "I did, my daughter; and it is connected with George Melville." any of He has, "Has the serpent bitten him?" said Bell. "It may prove so; but I cannot give you the circumstances which surround his case. probably, ere this been arrested to answer a charge preferred against him by the cashier of the Obank, at the city of U- for obtaining six hundred and twenty-five dollars from that bank, upon a check which is pronounced to be a forgery." Bell's heart throbbed quickly. Notwithstanding Mr. Mortimer did his utmost to betray none of the satisfaction which he would not have acknowledged had existence, even to himself, yet Bell read his feelings. "And his misfortunes please my father," said Bell. 666 'Viper' for one suitor charged with crime, and 'misfortunes' for another," replied Mr. Mortimer. 66 "Yes, sir; and my sympathy, prayers, tears, anguish of soul, energies, to lift the cloud from the 'unfortunate,' and bring the 'viper' where the biter shall be bitten," said his daughter. Bell Mortimer at that moment made her father's eye quail before the intense passion which kindled in hers. "To-morrow, sir, I go to the city of U. My father's company will be acceptable, but not absolutely necessary." "He will accompany you, Bell; but he advises his daughter to remain at Aurora." Bell could no longer control her feelings. She threw herself into her father's arms and burst into tears. "Father, you must give your daughter a sacred promise. George Melville, convicted, or acquitted from this charge, is my affianced husband. Though to the world he be proven guilty, to me and before Heaven he is innocent. Promise me never to thwart one effort I may make in his behalf. I will not ask your assistance. In return I promise never to marry without your consent. Be assured of one thing; while George Melville lives, I remain true to him." "This last resolve is rash; but I readily give you the promise, and will add to it the assistance, unless your plans should appear to be inconsistent and unwise. You will then have my best advice. Bell sometimes forgets that her father loves her." "Let her acts prove the truth or error of that, father," said Bell, evilently much pained by his last remark. XXXI. A Station on the N. Y. Central Railroad-Car Manufactory-Reception of a Convict at the Auburn State Prison-A Model Prison in the United States. THE reader will please pass over nine months in the history of George Melville. It is ten and a half o'clock in the morning. The sun shines with rich grandeur over the city of Auburn. A cloud now and then flits across his disk, throwing a genial shadow over the face of the city; a refreshing breeze causes the green foliage which graces thousands upon thousands of the magnificent shade trees, for which Auburn is justly celebrated, to wave in beautiful contrast with the unyielding front of the solid masonry forming her principal buildings. We are waiting, at the New York Central Railroad dépôt, the arrival of the eastern train. The cars are behind time; something rather unusual for this well-conducted railroad. Let us walk around the dépôt. This waiting the arrival of a train of cars in a strange place, is the essence of momentary-breeding ennui. We have reached the north end of the dépôt. Beyond we see several roomy structures, each several hundred feet in length, with height and breadth suited for manufacturing the princely-planned and decorated passenger cars, in which a traveller rides two or three hundred miles, and when at his journey' end, imagines he can step back home in a few minutes. The hum of machinery comes from the structures. Enter the nearest. From ten to fifteen cars are in process of construction. It is a pleasing sight. The skillful, industrious, and enterprising mechanic, multiplying his blows, as he shapes the wood, or fashions the iron, stands there-thanks to the American Constitution, American institutions of learning, and American public sentiment—a man of infiuence, position, and caste. "Toiling-rejoicing-sorrowing, Each morning sees some task begin, Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought." * Now walk half the width of the dépôt, and stop at its northwest corner. That pile of solid masonry is the Auburn State Prison. Its architectural proportions and shape present a graceful but solid front. The wall before us appears to be at least five hun-. dred feet in length. Its height must be equal to thirty or forty feet. At equal distances, upon the top of the wall, are guard towers, designed to shelter the * Henry W. Longfellow. sentinels. That guardsman as, with musket brought to a shoulder, he treads the summit of the wall in measured pace, occasionally casting an eye over his beat, speaks volumes to the casual traveller of the rigor and discipline necessary to keep in strict subjection the picked company of desperadoes within. But there is no time to loiter. The train will soon be here. We stop to admire that knot of ladies and gentlemen who are issuing from the main entrance through the wall. As the immense iron gate strikes back into its place, and the bolts return to their stone sockets, a shudder seems to run through the system. Has such a feeling ever been the foretaste of this celebrated prison to any of its present inmates, once as fully entitled to liberty as they are now restrained of it? We leave the spot, reflecting upon the question. Our next position is at the southwest corner of the dépôt. From this spot Auburn lies before us. Το the right, and standing in bass-relief against the horizon, rises a high elevation of land, having its summit crowned with tall and stately forest trees. A gentlemanly young man, observing our interest in the scene, informs us that the forest-clad height in the distance is "Fort Hill Cemetery," said to be unrivalled in natural beauty. We make a note of this fact, and determine at some future day to pay that hill a visit. "Shoo- -00-00- -00000" The cars at last! The dépôt bell rings a few merry notes-doubtless a signal to passenger loiterers, as well as to the railroad officials and employés, to be on the alert. Within three feet of our position the iron horse stops. We turn to admire one of the most -00 |