such
a crime, seemed in the highest degree painful and offensive to them. It
was soon made evident that the prisoner had invented the story, in order
to procure a cessation of his punishment of the previous night.

The fatigues and constant disappointments that poor Clarke had endured,
had worn him out, and at last again stretched him on a bed of sickness.
His life was for a long time despaired of, but he finally recovered, and
shortly afterwards the term of imprisonment to which the child-stealer
(for such the public persisted in considering Tully) had been condemned,
expired. There was no pretext for detaining him, and he was set at
liberty. Clarke was advised to endeavour to obtain from him, by money
and good treatment, some information concerning the child. Both father
and mother threw themselves at the man's feet, implored him to name his
own reward, but to tell them what had become of their son.

"You have flogged and imprisoned me," replied the man, with one of his
malicious grins; "you would have hung me if you could; you have done all
in your power to make me miserable. It is now my turn."

And he obstinately refused to say a word on the subject of the lost
child. He left town, accompanied by Clarke, who clung to him like his
shadow, in the constant hope that he would at last make a revelation
They crossed the Mississippi together, and on arriving behind Concordia,
the bereaved father once more besought Tully to tell him what had become
of his son, swearing that, if he did not do so, he would dog him day and
night, but that he should never escape alive out of his hands. The man
asked how long he would give him. "Six-and-thirty hours" was the reply
Tully walked on for some time beside Clarke and his wife, apparently
deep in thought. On a sudden he sprang upon the backwoodsman, snatched a
pistol from his belt, and fired it at his head. The weapon missed fire.
Tully saw that his murderous attempt had failed, and apprehensive
doubtless of the punishment that it would entail, he leaped, without an
instant's hesitation, into the deepest part of a creek by which they
were walking. He sank immediately, the water closed over his head, and
he did not once reappear. His body was found a couple of hours
afterwards, but no trace was ever discovered of the Stolen Child.[1]

[1] Various particulars of the above incident may be found in the
Mississippi newspapers, of the years 1825-6.

M. GIRARDIN.

A word, befo