The New York Herald Newspaper, August 14, 1874, Page 3

B. jMr. Beecher’s Statement and Cross-Examination Be- fore the Committee. A LONG PROMISED STORY. ‘The Origin and Progress of the Trouble. "TILTON’S WILD VIEWS. ’ {Gossip, Tattle and Scandal of a Crowd of Malicious Women. ‘MOULTON’S POLICY. - Beecher’s Claim that It Was All Paternal. ‘MRS, TILTON'S CONFESSION ‘History of the Visit to Mrs. Til- ton’s Sick Chamber, “THE ANKLE SCENE LEFT OUT. ‘Beecher’s Endeavors to Reconcile Eliz- abeth and Fheodore. ‘HIS EXPLANATION OF THE LETTERS. Bedroom Scene Unnoticed. ’The ‘Tilton and Moulton’s Success in Ob- taining Money from Beecher. MOULTON’S PISTOL. The Plymouth Pastor Writes His - Resignation. THE QUERY —_—— The Investigating Oommittee met yesterday Morning at nine o’clock at Mr. Beecher’s house friends attended the secret session, among whom ‘was Professor Raymond, who has been so conspic- wously active in his behalf and who was sum- moned by the jollowing telegram:—‘Dear Ross, ‘We want you immediately. H.W.B.” Mr. Joseph Howard, Jr., was also seen to enter the residence @f the femous preacher and was cordially re- ceived by Colonel Henry W. Beecher. After read- fing his statement Mr. Beecher was cross-examined at length, and the committee did not leave the house until about three o’clock. Mr. White, in eonversation with @ reporter of the HERALD, Stated that Mr. Beecher’s examination had been Anished. When asked whether the committee had mow formally closed the investigation he replied Wm the negative. The publication of Mr. Beecher’s statement, he thought, would compel Mr. Moulton €o come out with the truth, and in that case the committee would, of course, be perfectly willing to hear Mr. Moultom again. But outside of Mr. Moulton there were no other witnesses to be ex- g@mined, so that if Mr. Moulton should insist upon yemaining silent their labors werd ended so tar as the examination of witnesses was concernea. When asked whether Mr. Beecher’s statement showed that he was made the victim of blackmail- fmg operations Mr. White said, in a significant tone, ‘“Tnat could be easily seen from the state- meat.” He added that what he had heard thus far Bad not weakened his confidence in Mr. Beecher’s but fair that Mr. White, for one, will not vote for @ther members of the committee were also ques- Gioned, but declined to state their views, Mr. Winsiow, to be sure, approached the reporter with the astoundiug information that “Mr. Beecher bad confessed’? and “beca found guilty,” but he was, of course, only joking. Mr. Cleveland was shocked by Mr. Winsiow’s conduct, ‘end said, “Oh, don’t say that, Winslow,” as though he were afraid that the reporter would publish ‘the information as genuine and thoroughly trust- ‘worthy. The publication of Mr. Moulton’s statement in fe Brooklyn afternoon papers created an immense Sensation, and public curiosity was stimulated by the absence of Mr. Beecher’s statement, which ‘Was reserved for publication this morning in the Rew York press, Mr. Tilton and Mr. Moulton, who ‘Were both out of wwn—the latter having left for Narragansett Pier—were informed by telegraph of ‘Mr. Beecher’s resolve to pubiish his and Mouiton’s statement. It can, of course, be easily tmagined [what an effect this Important piece of news had fem these and the other prominent actors in the dal, BEECHER BEFORE THE COM- There are certain moments in every man’s which mark a new era in one’s exist- and which when added to the knowi- fe that @ question of life and death is to Gecided impart solemnity to every gesture id every word, It can scarcely be said that Mr. Beecher stepped before the committee ho were seated in bis library he felt as one hone life or reputation was at stake. And yet it st have been a moment of no little nervousn esq anxiety as he rose to address the committee to unburden his heart of tne paiuiuland griev- load of anguish and sorrow whicn was soon be spread broadcast all over the land. A NERVOUS BEGINNING. ‘To judge from the accounts given by several eye- itnesses, Mr. Beecher seemed to feel the solem. ity of this trying moment? He is, generally speak- g, ® man of extraordinary sell-possession and nce of mind, and on this occasiun these re- arkabie qualities did not forsake him. He rose jery slowly, straightened himself a tittle, ana, Wing his copious notes inthe right hand and ng with steadfast eye at the Chairman of the ittee, he began to read his atate. at. His noves were very elaborate, and UNANSWERED YET. | to hear his statement, A number of Mr. Beecher’s | parity ol character, so that the inference seems | 6 Mr, Beecher kept constantiy amplifying l NEW YORK HERALD, FRIDAY, AUGUST 14, 1874—TRIPLE S end enlarging their contests by interpolating all sorts of explanatory remarks or “speéehes,”’ 8 one of the members of the committed called them. His voice was slightly, Very slightly, tremu- lous as he first began to ‘there'was just the Jaintest flush of ex: ou his fine, broad face; but as ne went on gradually ac- quired steadiness and hia its wonted acd te : WELL KNOWN RXPRESSIOWOP PLACTDITY, Mr. Beecher occupied over Bours in reading his statement (inclusive of | “gpéeches”) so that it was not very easy w Every now and them the famed puipit orator Wedi@ stop and wipe his brow, and once or twice he @fank iced’ water— an inspiring and stimula’ Peverage most ap- Propriate to the occasion. Wit thé éxception of the very first part of the @tateniént ‘in whién, a@ already stated, Mr. Beedlier betrayed slight emotion, there was nothing to mar er cloud his calm dignity and smooth and several ol the eye-witnesses désoribed it, he spoke “as pleasaptiy and coolly” and seemed to be quite as much master Of the situatiomras though he nad agar’ pe vast and familiar toa srom u werliden plead POLPIT OF PLYMOUTH GHURCH. After the reading of the statement, which was listened to.with profound be &@ recess was taken and lunch served. The comverastion during Jancheon sakdes upon differgnt tapics oi all sorts, the weather, th 3 Then came, Mr. Beecher’s croas-e nation, guring, which he remained seated, and ft was four Spine beJore the great ordeas over, Then an ee8i' CURIOUS AND INTERESTING “ACL. Mr, Rossiter Raymond hat communicated | witn the New York dailies to tain if they gould publish the statement m ‘ai and being answered in the aMrmative, 2 led to his resi- dence, No. 123 Henry street, in the sumptuous ana elegant! turnished. parior of the work of copying began. . ir. Kaymond occupied a small Inner room with the stenographer of Plymoutm @hurch, who had taken down the stacement. In the parior, seated around @ large table, were upwards of twenty reporters, stenographers, copyisi# and manifuld Writers, working as 1 on iife and death, and stand- ing near the door were some temor twelve mes- senyer boys waiting for ‘copy,’ and ready to start of at a mument’s novice, Mr. Shearman assisted ip superintending the work, and was kept constantly moving from the inner room to | the parior. Some were taking down ia shorthand as Jast as they could ply their pencils, ot: copying in Jonghand trem dictation, others up tne Mmaniloid copy, and all was hi pxiety.. Now and then a call would be hort. jor a Bi hand or manifold writer, and. sometimes a little contusion was CGerraees ‘but cunaidering the muagotiude of the task and the great haate in which it was necessary to do tt, jer aud sys- tem were marvellous. The scepe will not.soon be Jorgotten by any one who witnessed !s. ‘The brii- liantly lighted and elegantly furnished room, hung round with costly and well selected pictures; the crowd of busy, anxious men, sweating and tolling at their ‘work as if their very exist- ence depended on having tt Snished by a certain time, the flushed faces of the © boys, as they rusned out through the {viding doors to the carriage in waiting ou bearing off tie precious ‘copy’’—all these were Jeatures that gave the scene Scpcenrenay agpect that could better be portrayed by the pencil of an artnet than the pen ofa reporter. Not tre least interesting event ol the evening was a visit from) Mr. Beecher him- self, who came to see how the wol 8} hot He looked a littie anxious, though wordy calm and coliected, as he asked the in a voice that could but balf conceal the e ihe elt, “whether they thought they coul@ floish in time Jor publication to-day and how they jiked their work.” MR. BEECHER’S STATEMENT. GENTLEMEN OF THE OCOMMITTBE—In the state- ment aidressed to the public om the 22d of July last I gave an explicit, comprehensive and solemn dental to the charges made by Theodore Tilton against, me. That denial | now repeat and re- affirm, I also stated 10 that communication that I should appear beiore your committee with a more detailed statement and explamation of the tacts in the case. For this the time Ras now come. Four years ago Theodore Tilton fell rem one of the Droudest editorial chairs in Ameri¢s, wuere he represented the cause of religion, humanity and patriotism, and in a few months thereafter became the &ssoctate and repre- sentative of Victoria Woodhull and the priest of her strange cause. By his follica he was bank- rapt in reputation, in occupation, and In re- sources. The intertor history, of which Iam now about to give a brief outline, is the history of his attempts to go employ me as to,reinstate him in: business, restore his reputatiai,.. place: Bim © aqaim upon the ermnence-from whieh ne had fallen. | 1t 18 @ sad history, to the full Meaning of whico 1 have but recently awakened. Entangledin a wil- derness of complications, I followed unt.! lately a | false theory and a delusive hope, believing that the | triend who assured me of his determination ana ability to control the passionate vagaries of Mr. Tilton, to restore his household, to rebuild his for- tunes and to vindicate me, would be equal to that promise. THE SELF-CONFESSED FAILUEB, His self-confessed failure has made clear to me what for along time 1 did not suspect—the real | Motive of Mr. Tilton. My narrative does not rep- resent a single standpoint only as regards my opinion of Theodore Tilton. It begins at my cor- dial intimacy with him in his earlier career, shows my lamentation and sorrowiul but nopeful affec- | tion for him during the period of his initial wan- | derings from truth and virtue, It describes my | repentance over evils befailing him of which 1 was made to believe myseli the cause; my persevering | and finally despairing efforts to save him and his family by any sacrifice of mysell not absolutely | dishonorable, and my growing conviction that his perpetual follies rendered his recovery impossible. and blunders | Ican now see that be {s and bas been from the beginning of this | be difficulty a selfish and reckless schemer, pursuing | about me a network of suspicious misonderstand- ings, plots and hes to which my own innocent words and acis, nay, even my thoughts of kindness | toward him have been made to contribute.. These | successive views of him must be kept in view to | explain my course through the last four years, j a plan of mingled greed ana hatred, and weaving 1 t Iwas blind so long'as to the real nature ofthe Mr. Beecher’s expulsion from the pulpit, The | tn . | intrigue going on around me was due partly to my own overwhelming public engagements, partly to | my compicte surrender of this affair and all | Papers and questions connected with it into the | hands of Mr. Moulton, who was intensely conti- dent that he could manage it successfully. I suf- Jered much, but 1 inquired little. Mr. Moulton ‘was chary to me of Mr. Tilton’s confidence to him, reporting to me occasionally, in a general way, Mr. Tilton’s moods and outbreaks of passion only as | elements of trouble which he was able to control | and as additional proofs of the wisdom of leaving it to him. His comment of the situation seemed to me at the time complete, immersed as I was in incessant cares and duties, and only too glad to be relieved from considering the details of and wretched complications, the origin and the fact of which remain, in spite of all friendly intervention, & perpetual burden to my soul. 1 would not read in the papers about it—I would not talk about it. I made Moulton for a long perioa my confidant and my only channel of information, TILTON AN RXEMY. From time to time suspicions were aroused in me by indications that Mr. Tilton was acting the pertof an enemy. But the suspicions were re- pearedly allayed by his own behavior toward me in other moods and the assurahces of Mr. Moulton, who ascribed the circumstances to a misunder- standing or to malice on the part of others. Itis plain to me now that it was not until Mr. Tilton had fallen into disgrace and lost his salary that he thought it necessary to assail me with charges which he pretended to nave had in mind for six months, The aomestic offence which he alleged was very quietly and easily put aside, tat yet im such & way as to keep my feelings stirred up, in order that I might, through my friends, be used to extract from Mr. Bowen $7,000, the amount of a claim in dispute between them. The check for that sum in band, Mr. Tiiton signed an agreement of peace and concord, not made by me, but accepted by me as sincere. The Golden Age had been started. He had the capital to carry it on for a while. He was sure that he was to lead @ great social revolation. With returning prosperity, he had, apparently, no griets which could not be covered by his signature to the articles of peace. Yet the change tn that covenant, made by him before signing it, and represented to me a8 necessary, Merely to relieve him from the imputation of having originated and circulated certain old and shameless slanders about me, were really made, a8 DOW appears, to leave him tree for future operations upon me and against me. So long as he wae, or thought he was, on the road to a new success his conduct toward me was as Iriendly as he knew how to make it, | Hie assamption of superiority and magnanimit, and bis patronizing manner Were trifes at whic gelivery, Ags | hil ee | resigned their places, I T could afford to smile and whieh I bore with the ‘ater bumility since J nd\ impression the following narrative, thet i ming cause of overwhel disaster to him, and set totaal Fequired of me, and the. one which | could But with a peculiar for blunders he fell simost at every step into pew compiications and dimMcuities, ang in every. such instance 1G Was bis Policy to bring coercion to Upon my -houor, v7, conscience and my a: for the purpose procuring lis extrication at my expense. TILTON KNEW BEBCUBR WELL, Theodore ‘ilton knew me, weil. He has said Sgain and again to bis friends that if they wished tone 1 uence over me they must Work upon sympathetic aide of my nature. ‘To this he has dressed himself steadily for jour years, using as a@lever-without scruple my attachment to my friends, to my family, to bis own household and even my old ailection for bimself. BEECHER IN THE NET. Not blind to his jaults, but resulved to look on im as favorably and hopefully as possible, and ignorant of his deeper malice, I labored earnestly, even desperately for his salvation. For four years 1 have been trying to prune tue insatiable egotism, \0 make the man as great as he conceived tumself to be; to restore to popularity dence one who, In the midst of my efforts in his behalf, patronized disreputable eronty and doc trines; Falbond, when Thencuahs “a 40 separate himself from them, and ascribed to My agency the toreasing ruin which he was persistently bringing upon bimeelf, and which was doing my utmost to avert. It was hard to do ia such & man TI might ss well have tried to fill a sieve with water. In the later stages of the history ne actually incited und created diiiculties, appar- ently than to drive me r no other Purpose to ireah exertions, 1 refused to indorse his wild Views and associates. The best 1 coujd do was to Speak well of bim, mention those good qualities and abilities which J still belteved him to possesy in Bis higher mood, and keeping silence concernin; dene ney etter eae eae n ly exaggera\ y public report, could Dot think him 80 bad as ay iriende did. bi trusted to the germs of good which I thought still lived tn him, to Mr, Moulton’s apparent power over him and to the power of my persistent self. secrifice. sr. Moulton came to me at first as the schoolmate and triend of Mr. Tilton, determined to reinstate him, I always faspected, ‘without regard to my interests, but on further acquaintance with me undertook and promised to serve his friend without doing wrong to me. He agid he saw clearly Low this was to be done, so aa to restore peace and harmony to Mr..Tilton’s and bring a Dal end of all misunderstandings, Many thin; which he counselled I abaolutely refused; put I “Dever doubted his friendship for me, after {riend- ship had grown up between us, and whatever he. wirhed me todo I did, unless it, seemed, to me wrong. My confidence in him wag the ele- Meut that seemed secure in ‘that confu- sion of Perplexities, To him tormenting this troublous time, when I felt that secret machinations we! going on around me and echoes of the vilest slander concerning me were heard of in unex- pected quarters; when some of wy near relatty Were set against me, anu the tattie of a crowd of Malicious women, hostile to me un other grounds, ‘Was borne to my ears; when I had lost the last remnant of faitn in Theodore, or hope for him; when | heard with unspeakable. remorse ti everything I had done to stay his destruction had made matters worse and worse; that my attempt to keep bim from @ public trial (involving sucha fiood of scandal a8 bas now been let loose) had been used by him to bring up new troubies; that his unhappy wiie was, under his dictation, signing papers and recantations, and I knew not what; that in short, everything was breakii up, and, the destruction irom which shad sought; to save the ly Was likely to be emptied on other families, the Ohurch, the community, with infinite horrors of woe Jor me, that my own innocence was buried under heaps and heaps of rubbish, and nobody but my professed iriend, if even he, could save ug. To his assur- ances that he could still do so, 1 gave at least so much faith as to maintain ander these terrible triais the silence which he enjoined. Not until Mr. Til- ton, having attempted, turough Frank Carpenter, to raise money from my triends, openly assailed me, in my letter to Dr. Bacon, did 1 break that silence, save by simple demial of the slanderous TumOora against me a year before. THB FIRST OPEN ATTACK, On the appearance of the first. open attack irom Mr. Tiiton 1 immediately, without consulting Mr. Moulton, called for a thorough investigation with @ committee of my cburch. I am nut re- sponsible ior the delay, the pubiicity or the details of that investigation. All tne hario which I have 80 tong dreaded and have so earneatly striven to avoid has come to pass. I prevent it without a full and truth. The time has arrived -when can freely speak in vindl self, 1 labor under great maki ment, My mem mind and tenacious my memory 01 dates and details. ing four. trou- bled years, in all ot fn ve been jarly bardened with public labor, having established apd conducted the Onristian U1 delivered 8e8 Of lec reached before bd em 2 oe P ae wrieten christ,” delivered each winter lyceum lectures in . ali the North and West—all these dutics, with the care of the great churon and its outlying scnools and chapels, and the miscellaneous business which Jails upon @ clergyman more than upon any other public man, have kept iy regard, and now with the necessity of ex- piaining actions and letters resulting irom com- plex influences, apparent at the time, I find my- self in @ position where I know my innocence, without Ln | apie to prove it with detailed ex- planattons, am one upon whom trouble works inwardly, making me outwardly silent, but rever. berating in the chambers of my soul; and when at length 1 do speak, it 1s a pent-up Quod, and pours without measure or moderation. 1 inherit a ten- dency to sadness, the remaing in mo of positive | hypochondria in my father and grandiather, and ju certain moods of reaction the world becomes black and I see very (espairing\y. If 1 were in such moods to speak as I feel I should give faise colors and exaggerate the proportions of everything. This maniiestation is m such con- trast to the hopeiulness and courage which 1 ex- perience in ordinary times that none but those intimate with me would suspect one so full of over- flowing spirit and eager gladsomeness to have within bim @ care of gloom and despondency. Some of my letters to Mr. Moulton reflect this morbid ieeling, He understood it, and at times earnestly reproved me for indulging it. With this preiiminary review | proceed to my narrative, MR. BERCHEWS NARRATIVE. Mr. Tilton was first known to me asa reporter ot my sermons. He was then a youth just from school, and working on the New York Observer. From this paper he passed to the Mdependent, and came & great ortte with Mr. Bowen. When about 1861, Drs. Bacon, Storrs and Thompson became editor of the Independent, to which I had been irom its start a contributor. me was that Mr. Tilton should be my assistant and relieve me wholiy from routine oMce work. In this relation I became very much attached to him. We used to stroll to galleries and print shops, and dine orten together, His mind was opening freshiy and with enthusiasm upon all quesiions, 1 used to pour out my ideas of civil affairs, public poiicy, religion and philanthropy. Uf thia he bad often spoken with grateful apprectation, and mourned at 2 later day over its repaired to my jarm in June and July ana re- mained there during September and October. My labors confining me to this city, 1 took my meals tn the iamilies of friends, and from year to year I became so familiar with their children and homes | that I went tn and out daily almost ag in my own house. Mr. Tilton oiten alluded to this habit, and urged me todo the same by his house. He used often vo speak in extravagant terms of his wile’s esteem and afitction for me. After I began to visit his house he sought to make it attractive, He urged me to bring my papers down there and use his study to do my wrirto, pleasant to write at the office of the BEECHER AND THE CL&VELAND LETTER, When I went to England tn 1863 Mr. Tilton took temporary charge of the /) Un my re- turn I paved the way for him to take sole charge of it, my name remaining ior a year and then ite becoming the responsible editor. Friendly rela- tidns continued until 1866, when the violent as- sauits made upon me by Mr. Tilton in the In- on account of my Cleveland letter, and the temporary discontinuation of the publication of my sermons in that paper, broke of con- nection with it, Although Mr, Tilton and I re- mained personally on guod terms, yet there was a | coolness between us in all matters of Our social relations were very kindly, as late as 68-' at his request, sat nity times jor Litics. ” some ‘with Mr. Moulton, whose wife was a member of Plymouth church, though he was not a member nor even a reguiar attendant. During this whole period I never received from Mr. Tilton or any member of bis family the slightest hint that thero ‘wae any dissatisfaction with my familiar relations to bis household. Ae late, I think, as the winter of 1869, when going upon an extended lecturin; id, “1 wish you would look tn viven an see that Libby is not lonesome or does not want anything," or words to that effect, Never by sign or word did Mr. Talton complain of i8its in his family until after hé began to fear that the Inde- pendent would be taken trom him, nor did he break ‘out into violence until on the eve of dispossession from both the papers—the m and the Brooklyn Union—owned by Mr, Bowe! these years of intimacy in Mr. Tilton’s ft was trusted as @ father or elder brother. Children were born—children died. ‘rhey learned to love me and frolic with me as if I we f ue and honest regard. She seemed to me an affectiona' Mother, a devoted wife, looking up to ner hus band as one far avove the common race of men, and turning to me with artiess tamiliarity and with entire confidence, Childish tn ap. arance, sie was childi.ke in nature, would a8 soon bave misconceived the confidence of her little girls as the unstudied affection which she showed me. Detcate in health, with @ self- cheeriul air, she was boundieas in. her sympathy for those in tronble, and labored beyond her strength forthe poor. She had the rge at one me Of the married women’s class the Bethel Mission school, aud they perfectly Ayden | Me her there? I gave Mra. Tilton copies of my bouks when published. I sometimes sent down from the Jarm Sowers to be distributed among @ dozen or id public confi- | w toa of }- torted trom her & confession One of the inducements held out to | cessation. | August was my vacation month, but my family in, as it was not | indent, to | Page a portrait. It was here that first met and talked | weet { more famities, and she occasionally shared. The at I ever gave her wason my return im 1863, when I distributed souvenirs of ey tO some fifty or more persons, and to" “wave @ simple of iMttle intrinsic value. f So far from supposing that my presence and influ- ence wesalienating Mrs, fiten from her family bu it, On the contrary, that it was and encouraging her to hoid man evidently siiding into dangerous le to be ruimed by unexame- pled wheelt, I regarded Mr. Tilton as in a Very critical period of his life, and used to think it | jJortunate that he had good nome influences about Bim. During the late years of our friendship Mrs, ‘Tilton | @ very mournfully to me about. the tendency of Her husoand to great laxity of | doctrine in religion.and morals. She gave me to | understand that he denied the divinity of Christ, | the inspiration Of the Scriptures and must articles of orthodox faith, wiitle bis views as to the sanc- tity of the marriage relation were undergoing con- | stant change in the direction of iree love. | THE BXPLICIT DENIAL. | In the latser p: of July, 1870, Mrs, Tilton was | sick, and, at her request, I visited her, Sune seemed } auch depressed, DBE gave me no bint of any) | trouble bhaywing ference to me. 1 cheered | her as best I conld @nd prayed with her just be- | lore lebving, This was our last interview before trouble broke out in the family, I describe it be- | Cause it was the'last, and its character has a bear- | ing upon a later part of my story. Concerning all my other visite it 18 sufficient to say that at no iu. | verview which ever ‘took — between Mrs. ton and myself did anything occur which mighc | not have occarred with periect propriety between | a brother and sistet, between a father and child, | or between 8 man of honor snd the wie of his | dearest irtend. Nor did anything ever happen | which she or | sought to conceal from her husband, ‘A CONGREGATIONAL PROTEST, | Some years vefore’any open trouble between Mr. Tilton abd myself hia doctrines, as set forth in the leaders of the Independent, aroused a storm of in- dignation among the representative Congregi tionaliste in the And as the paper was still | very largely sup) to be my organ I was writ- ten to on the subject, In reply I indignantly dis- claimed all responsibility for the views expressed | by Mr. Tilton, brother Edward, then living in Iilnois, was prominent in the remonstrance Addressed to Mr. Bowen concerning the course of hig paper under Mr, Tilton’s management. It was understood that Mr. Bowen ugreed, in con- sequence of proceeedings arising out of this re- monstrance, to remove ‘lilton or suppress his pecuhar views; a instead of that, Theodore Sperone Scares th seadie aa betes and Ts ol marriage and divorce began to shadowed editorially, ON MABRIAGE, ac. ci THEODORE’S LOOSE ROTIONS ‘This ied to the statting of the Advance in Chica- gO, to supersede in the Nortn- west, and Mr. Bo feel that ton’s ma! Ment was seriously injuring tne bu: neas, and Mr. Tiltum may have felt that his tion was being undermined by upponents ol views, with ai F his whom he subsequentiy pretended to believe | wasinieague. Vague intimations o! his Bea ane ded toward me I ascribed to this mis- concept Thad in reality taken no step to harm him, A YOUNG GIRL IN THE CASE. After Mrs. ‘iii10n’s return from the West in De- cember, 1870, a young girl whom Mrs, ‘Tilton bad taken into the family, educated and treated like 8D own child (her testimony, I understand, is before the committee), was sent tome with an urgent request that I would visit Mrs. Tilton at ber mother’s, She that Mrs, Tilton had left her home and gone to her mother’s in consequence of lll treatment of her husband. She then gave an account of what she geen of cruelty and abuse on the part of the husband that shocked me; and yet more, when, with downcast look, she said that My. Tliton had ited her chamber in the night and soaght her consent to his wishes. 4 HOME “WHICH a, LIKE A NIGHTMARE DamaM. I immediately visited Mrs. Tilton, at her mother’s, and received @n account of her home ule, and of the cespocmes of her husband and of the Management of a woman whom he had made housekeeper, which seemed like a nightmare dream, ‘Ihe question was whether she should go back or separate forever irom her husband. I asked permission to bring my wile to see them, Whoge judgment in all domestic relatious | thought betver than my own, @od accordingly a second visit Was made, MES, BEECHER'S INDIGNATION. - The result of the interview was that my wife was extremely indignant towards Mr. Tuton, and | Geclared that no sideration on earth would induce aer to remain «@ hour with a man who had treated her with a bundredth part of such insult and cruelty. 1 felt #8 strongly as she did, but hesitated, a8 I always do, @t giving advice in 1avor ol ® Be m. it wae ed that my wile should give her final advice at another visit. The next wy wn ready t@ g0; she Wished a final word, there company and the Bor: of. pape! “1 in fete think east an ir ry) rr, o think that your view 1s rigot, and that @ separation and a settle- ment Of support will be wisest, and that in his present desperate atate her presence near him ta jar more Ukely to produce hatred than her ab- sence. nee. Mrs, Tilton did not that my presence had anything to do wit Bor did she let mé eno’ " previous he had ex- Of excessive affection tor me. On the evening of December 27, 1870, Mr. Bowen, ; on his way home, called at my house and handed me a letter irom Mr. Tilton. it was, as nearly as I can remember, in tne sollowing terms:— TILTON’S DEMAND FOR BEECHER TO QUIT. For reasons which you explicitiy know, and which T forbear to state, J deme you withdraw from the and quit ‘Brooklyn. jesidence. _ , THKODORE TILTON, BOWEN COMES IN, Tread it over twice, ag@ turned to Bowen and said, ‘This man ts crazy! Tus is sheer insanity!” and otner like words, Mr. Bowen proiessed to be ignorant of the contents, and 1 handed him the letter to read. We at once feli mto a conversation abont Mr. Tilton, | He gave me some account of the | reasons why he had reduced him from the edito: | Ship of the Independent to the subordinate pusi- | | on Of contributor—viz., that Mr. Tuton’s rell- gious and social views were raining the paper. But, he said, that as soon as it was known that he had so far broken with Tilton there came pouring | in upon him 80 many stories of Mr. Tiltoo’s private life and habits that he was over- whelmed, and that he was now consider- iug whether he could consistently retain bim on tne Brooklyn Union, or as chief contributor to the Independent. He narrated the siory of the affair at Winsted, Conn., some like stories from the Northwest and charges brought against ‘Tilton in | his own office. Without douvt he velieved these | allegations, and so aidJ. Tne other facts pre- Yiously stated to me seemed @ full corroboration. We conversed for some time, Nr. Bowen wishing my opinion. It was irankiy given. I did not see how he could maintain witn Mr. ‘Tilton, The substance of tne full conversation was that Tilton’s inordinate vanity, bis fatal facility in blundering (‘or which he had a genius), and osten- tatious independence in bis own opinions, aud general impracticabieness, would keep the Union at disagreement with the political party tor whose service {t was published; and now added to all this these revelations of these promiscuous im , Mmoralities would make his connection with either | Paper fatal to its interests. ispoxe strongly and | emphatically under the great provocation of nis threatening to me ana the revelation I had just had concerning his domestic affairs, Mr. Bowen derided the letter of Tilton’s which ; he had brought to me, and said earnestly that, if trouble came of tt, 1 might rely upou his friend- ship. 1 learned afterwards that in toe turtner quarrel, ending in Tilton’s peromptory expuision Jrom Bowen's service, this conversation was re- peated to Mr, Tilton, | believe that Bowen had an loterview and received some furtuer information about fulton irom my wile, to whom I had rejerred him, | MR. TILTON’S FINAL OVERTHROW. Althougn | bave no doubt that Mr. Tilton would have lost bis place at any rate, I have also no doubt that my influence was dectaive, and pre- cipitated his final overthrow. When I came to tuink it ail over, | felt very unhappy at the con- templation of Mr. Tilton’s impending disaster, | had joved him much, and at one time he had seemed like a son to me. My influence had come justat the time of his first uniolding, and had Much to do with his early development. I had aided him, externally, to bring him beiore the Public. We had been togecher in the great con- troversies of ihe day until ajter the war, aud our social relations bad been intimate, It 1s true that bis nasure always exaggerated his own exceilencies, When he was but a boy he Jooked up to me with affectionate admiration. After some years he felt himseif my equal and was very companionable, and when he had outgrown Mie @nd reached the position of the frat man of the | age ll was king and patronising, I bad al- mlied at these weal ges Of Vanity, and that @ larger experience, with some knocks aniong strong men, and by sorrows that temper the soul, be would yet fulfil a useful and briluant career, But now all looked dark. He was to be cast forth from his eminent position, and his affairs at home did not promise that sy: hy and strength which makes onc's house, as mine has been in times of adversity, a refuge from the storm and a tower of dete! TILTON’S PIGHT TO REGAIN HIS PLACE IN SOCIRTY. Besides a gencrous suffering | snould have bad a Selfish reason for such tf 1 had dreamed that I waa ; about to become the instrument oy which Mr. Tilton meant to fight his way back to the prosper- ‘ty which he had forfeited. It now appears that on the 29th of December, 1870, Mr. Tilton, having learned toat I had replied to his threatening letter by expressiag Such an opinion of him as to set Mr. Rowen finally against him and bring nim face to face with immediate rain, extorted (rom hi wile, then suffering under vere iliness, & docnment incriminating me, and prepared’ an elavorate attack upon me. On Tuesd December 30, 1870, about seven o'clock, Mr. Francis D, Mou'ton called at my house and with intense earnestness suid, “I wish you to fe with me to see Mr. Tilton,” I replied that {could not then, aa I was just going to my prayer meeting. With the most positive manger he said, “You must go; somebotly else will take care of the meeting.” i went with nim, not knowing what trouble had } agitated him, but vaguely thinking that I might now learn the eviuiion of the recent threatening lewier, | | | bellevea i ASKING FOR INFORMATION. On the way | asked what was the reason of this vistt, to which he replied that “Mr. Luton would inform me,” or words to that effect, On entering | his house Mr. Moulton locked the door, saying | something about ‘not being interrupted.” He ro. quested me to % imto the front caamber on the | | Darlor ,Qvor. 1 was under the imuression that Air, | HEET. Tilton was ing to pour out upon me hia an; if for colleaguing with Bowen ana for the eaves of separation given to his wie. | wished Mr. Moul- ton to be with me a8 a witness, but ne insisied that I should go vy myself, | HOW HB WAS RECEIVED BY TILTON. Mr. Tilton received me coldly but caimiy. After | & word or two, standing in front of me with a | memorandum in bis hand, he began a set oration. He charged me, in substance, with acting lora long time in an uniriendly s)irit; that | haa sougnt his downfall; had spread injurious rumors about him; was using my place and influence to under- mine him; had aavised Mr. Kowen to dismiss nim, and much more that I cannot remember. He then declared that I had injured bim in nis family reia- tions, had joined with his mother-in-law in pro ducing discord in bis home; had advised a separa. | tion; had alienated hts wife’s affection trom him; had led her to Jove me mure tnan any living beings had corrupted her moral nature and taught her to be insincere, lying and hypo- critical, and ended by charging that 1 bad made wicked proposals to her. Until he reached this £ had listened with some contempt, under the {m- | pression that he was attempting to bully me. but | wih she last charge he produced a paper purport- ing Je be a certified stateent of a previvus con- | jeanioa inade to him by his wife of her love for me, and that | had made proposals to her oi au impure ature, MRS. TILTON’S CONPRSSION. | He said that this confession had been made to him in July, six months previous; that nfs sense | of honor and affection would not permit any such | document to remain in existence; that he had | burned the original, and should now destroy the | omly copy; and he then tore the paper into | wall pieces. if I had been shocked at such a | atement I was abs lutely thunderstruck when be Glosed the interview by requesting me to repair to his Louse, where he said Elizabeth was waiting | for me, and learn from her lips the truth of his stories in so Jar as this concerned her. “LIKB A THUNDERBOLT," ‘This fell like @ thunderbolt on me. Could it be possible that his wile, wnum J had regarded as tne | type of moral goodness, should Rave mude such | faise and atrocious statements? And yet if she bad not how would he dare to send mo to her for confirmation of nis charges? LIKB A ''SLEZP WALKER” IN THE STRRET. Iwent forth like & sleep walker, while clouds were flying in the sky. There had been a snow storm, which was breaking away. The winds were out and whistling through the leafless trees; but ll this was peace compared to my mood withiu. 1 believe that Moulton went with me to the door of Tilton’s house, ‘The Umar ca Yo ae (the same | woman of whom Mr. Titon bad complained) seemed to have been instructed by him, for she evidently expected me and showed me at once up to Mrs. Tilton’s room. LIKE A MARBLE MONUMENT, Mrs. Tilton lay upon her bed, white as marble, With closed eyes ag in @ trance and with her hands Upon her bosom, palm to palm, like one in prayer, As I look back upon it the pic. ture is like some forms carved im marble that I nad seen upon monuments tn Europe. BEKCHER’S VISIT TO MKS. TILTON, She made no motion, and gave no sign of recog- nition of my presence, | sat down near her, and said, ““Elizaveth, Theodore has been making very serious charges against me, and senas me to you for confirmation.” She made no reply or sign. Yet it was plain that she was conscious and listen- ing. I repeated some of his statements: that | had brought discord to the family; bad alienated her jrom him; had sought to break up the family; had usurped his influence, and then, as well as I could, I added that he said thas bad made improper suggestions to her, and that she admitted this fact to him last July. I said, “Eliza- beth, have you made such statements to him??? She made no anewer. I repeated the question, Tears ran down her cheeks, and she ve: bowed her head in acquiescence, I said, cannot mean that you have stated all that he has charged.” She opened ber eyes, and be; slow and feeble way to explain how been, how wearied out with tmportuait, haa confessed hie own alien loves, and said that | he could not bear to think that she was better than he; tuat she might win bim to retormation if she would coniess that she had loved me more than him, and that they would repent and goon with juture concord, I cannot give her language, but only the tenor of her representations, [received them impatiently. L spoke to her in tne strongest uage of her course. Jgaid to ner, “Have I ever made any tmpro,er ad- vances to you?” She said *‘No,” Then I asked, “Why did you say so to your husband?” She seemed Geeply distressed, ““My friend nf that designa- tion she almost always called me), {am sorry, but Icould not nelp it, What can{ do?” I toid her she could state in wnting what she had now told me. She beckoned for her writing materials, which I handed her from her secretary standing near by, and she sat up im bed and wrote a brief counter-statement. IMPROPER SOLICITATIONS, In a sort of postscript sne denied explicitly that J had ever offered any improper solicitations to her, that being the only charge made against me by Mr. Tilton or sustained by the statement about the confession which he had read to me, 1 dreamed of no worse charge at that time. That was horrible | enough. The mere thougnt that ue could make it | — re have bone ig any ged on which to ase it Was enough to take away my senses. bef inn t cConacioasness 0} its utter falsehood nor Mi i1ton’s re:raction of her paré in it could ] remove’ the shock irom my heart and heaa. Indeed, her admission to me that she had | stated, under any circumstances, to her husband | wickea a falsehood was the crowning blow of | I. It seemed to me as if she was going to die, | that her mind was overthrown, and that I was, in | some dreaafu! way, mixed ap in it, and might be | left at her death with this terrible accusation hanging over me. IT returned like one in a dream to Mr. Moulton’s hose, where 1 said very hitti2, and soon went | home. It has been said that I confessed guilt and | expressed remorse. This is utterly false, Is it | likely that, with Mrs. Tilton’s retraction in my | pocket, | should have thus stuitifed myself? MRS, TILTON’S WRITTEN DENIAL. | On the next day, at evening, Mr. Moulton called | at my house and came up into my bedroom. He suid that Mrs. Tilton, on ner husband’s return to | her alter our interview, had informed him what she had done and that [had her retraction, Moul- ton expostulated with me, said that the retraction under the circumstances would not mend mat- | ters, but only awaken tresh discord begween | husband and wile and do great injury to Mrs. | Tilton without helping me. Mra. Tilton, he said, | had already recanted in writing the retrac- | tion made to me; and of course there mignt | be no end to such contradictions. Meanowniie | Tilton had destroyed his wiie’s first letter, ac- | knowledging tue conlession, and Mr. Moulton | claimed [had taken a mean advantage and made dishonorable use of Theodore'’s request that I | should visit her in obtaining trom her s written | contradiction to a document not in existence. He said that all difficulties could be settled without auy such papers and I ought to give it up. He Was under great excitement. He made nd verbal threats, but he apened his overcoat and with some emphatic remark he showed @ pistol, which aiterwarcs he took out and jald on the burea Near which he stood. I gave the paper to him an alter a iew moments talk he leit. MOULTON'S THIRD VISIT. Within @ day or two after this Mr, Monlton made me the third visit, aud tuis time we repaired to my study in the third story of my house. Before speaking of this interview it is right that I should gliude to the suffering through witch I had goue during the previous days, the cause of which was the strange change in Mrs, Tiiton., Nothing had | seemed to me more certain during all my acquaint- ance with her than cake she was singularly sim- ple, truthiul and honorable. Deceit seemed abso- utely joreign to her nature, and yet she had stated to ner husband those strange and awiul falsehoods. She had not, when daily I called and prayed with her, given me the slightest hint. I will not say of such Accusations, but even that there was any serious iamily diMfcalty. She had suddenly in December, called me and my wife to a consuita- tion to.a possible separation from her husband, sttll leaving me ignorant that she bad put into his hands such @ weapon against me. 1 was bewil- dered with douvle consciousness of @ saintly woman commnnicating @ very neediess treachery to her iriend and pastor. My distress was boundless, ever, that she would ordinarily be th she had been overvorne by sickness au in mind antil she scarcely knew what a! was no longer responsibie for her 1. oul Went out to herin pity. I blamed myself for want of prudence and loresight, jor! thought that all this had been the result of her undue aifection for | me. 1 had a profund teeling that | would bear any bal 4 and take any punishment if that poor chiid could only emerge from this cloud and be put back | into the happiness trom whichi had been, as i | thought, if not the cause, yes the occasion of with- drawing hér, I did not for a moment feel, how- a was _ biameworth; nt; mut supposed ti red dtd, tna M, BIS GREAT GRIRP. If my own daughter had been in a similar case mhy grief at her calamity could scarcely have been Ree, Moreover irom the anger and fury of Mr. ton I apprehended that this charge, made by him and supported by tne accusation of Ins Wife, was to be once publicly pressed against me, and ifit was I had nothing but my simpie word of dental to interpose against it. In my then morbid conaition of mind [ thought that this charge, altnough entirely untrue, might result im great disaster {f not in absolute ruin. The great interests which wero entirely dependent on _ me, the church which I had built up, the book which I was writing, my own immediate family, my brother's name, now engaged in the tminisery ; my sisters, the name which | had hoped might live alter me and be in some Flight degree a source of strength and encouragement to those who should succeed me; and, avove all, the cause for waotcn I had devoted my Ite seemed imperiled. Is seemed to me that my life work was to end abruplly and in disaster. My earnest desire to avoid a public accusation and the evils which must necessarily fow irom it and which now have re- sulted from it has been one of the leading motives that must explain my action during those jour years with relerence to this matter. THR FAMOUS OUTBURST OF GRIEF. It was in such @ sore and distressing condition that Mr. Moulton found me. His manner was kind and conciliatory ; he seemed, however, to be con- vinced that [had been seeking Tilton's downfall ; that I had leagued with Mr. Bowen against him, and that Lhad, by my advice, come near de- stroying his family, I did not heed any argument OF perstiasion to induce me todo and say ey on | which would remedy the injury ol whieh [ then | believed [ hi certainly been the occasion, if | not the ac ive cause. But Mr, Moulton urged that, | so—the Wrong Meant his means | ddeniy taken @way, his repu- | nia family destroyed and thar | support tation gone, | Was most I_ had done it. assured me of stories watch bs de knowledge that bed heard of Mr. ‘ilton’s impurity lve and which T had believed and repeated to Mr. Bowen, were all i apd that Mr. Tilton had always been faithful to his wie, 1 was persuaded into the belief of what be said and felt convictea 1 slander in tts meanest form, He drew the pic~ ture of Mr. Tilton wronged 10 reputation, in position; wronged in purse, shattered in ‘big family, where ne would otherwise have found reluge, the same time looking upon me ouy of his deep stress, while J, abounding in friends, most popular and with ampie means, He drew that picture~my prosperity overdaming and abounding and Tiltou’s utter degradation, J! intensely excited, indeed; 1 felt that my mind was in danger of giving Way; I walked up and down the room pourin; forth my heart in the most unrestrained igtie! an bitterness of sel{-accusation, telling what m, ideas were of the obligations of Miendship apd | the sacredness of the nousebold; denying, BOW ever, au intenttonal wrong, seeing that if I had been the cause, however remotely, of that which I then beheld, I never could iorgive myself, Hea! ing all tue viame on my own head, the case, as ‘a Then appeared to " m. yes, was strongly against me. My ol and fellow worker had deen dispossessed of his andinfuence and | had coun: amily aa ave nigh been b had advised it; bis wife had been long siek broken 1m health and body, and |, as uly Dalieved it, nad been the cause of all this wreck by contin- uing that blind heedlessness and triendship which had begniled her heart, and had aroused her hus- band tuto a fury of jealousy, althougn not caused by any intentional act of mine, And should I ovuldiy deiend myself? Should I peur indignation upon the lady? Should I hold her up to contempt as having thrust her affections upon me unsougnt? Shouid I tread upon the man and his household in their great aovarei 1 gave vent to my teelings witnout measure. I disclaimed with the greatest earnestness an intent to harm Theodore in hie honor or his business, and with inexpitcavie sor- row I both blamed and vefended Mrs, tilton in one breath. THE LETTER OF CONTRITION, Mr. Moultan was supose ty affected by my 80- Mloquy, tor it was that rather than u conversation. He suid that if Mr. Tilton could reaily ve per- suaded of the friendliness of feelings toward him he was sure that there would be no trouble in procuring @ reconciliation, I gave bim leave to ate to Theodore my ieelings, He proposed that Tahould write a letter. 1 deciined, but said thas he could report our interview, He then prepared ‘to make & Memorandum of the talk, and sat down at my table and took down, as I supposed, a con- densed report of my talk ; for | went on still pour- ing out my wounded feelings over this great deso- lation in Mr. Tilton’s family, It was not a dicta- tion of sentence alter sentence, he a@ mere amanuensis and I composing for him, M Moulton was putting toto his own snape parts of nat which I was saying in my own manner, with profuse explana. tions. This paper of Mr. Moulton’s was a mere memorandum of points to be used by him in set- ting fortn my feelings, That it contains matter and points derived from me is without doubt; but they were put into sentences by him, and ex- ressed as he understood them, not as my words, ut as hints ot my figures and letters, to be used by him in conversing with Mr. Tiiton, He did not read the paper to me, nor did I read it, nor have ever seen it or heard 1t read that | remember until the publication of Mr. Tilton’s recent dociments, and now reading it, I see in it thoughts that point to the matter of my discourse; bat it is not my paper nor are those my sentences, nor ig tt @ correct report of what Isaia. It ts @ mere string of hints, hastily made, by an unpractised writer, as helps to his memory in representing to Mr. Tilton how I felt toward his family. more than this be claimed, if it be set forth as @ny proper sense my letter, 1 then disown it and denounce it, Some o1 its sentences, and partiou- larly that in whichlam made to say that I had ovtained Mrs, Tiiton’s torgiveness, I ever could have said, even in substance. 1 had not obtain nor asked any forgiveness trom her, and nobody pretended that [{ had done so. Neither could ever have said that 1 humbled mysel! before Til- ton as before God, except in the sense that both tu God and to the man I thought | had deeply in- er I bombied myself, as I certainly did. Bat it is useless to analyze & paper prepared as thig was. The remainder of my plain statement concerning it wul be its best comment. This document was written upon three separate half sheets of iarge letter per. Alter it was finished Mr. Moulton asked me if _1 wou'd sign it. 1| said no it Was not my letter. He replied that it woul have more weight if I would in some way indicate that he was authorized to explain my sentiments, itook my pen and at some distance below the writing apd upon the lower margin I indicated that I had committed the document in trust to Mr. Moulton, and I signed the line thus writven by me, A few words more as to its iurther fate. Mr. Moulton, of his own accord, said that after using it be would, in two or three days, bring the memo- randum back to me, and he cautioned me about disclosi! in any way, that there was a dificult, between Mr. Tilton and me, as it would be injuri- ous to Tilton to have it known that I had quarrelled with him, as well as to me to have ra- mors rY phos. 1 did not ae bl mapel, 001 more ane: ward, whew iuiton ®ogan to write up his case (of Which pereaiter) and was looking up documenta. 1 wondered what was in this 0.d memorandum, and desired to see it for greater certutnty; 80, one day Isuddenly asked Moulton for tuut memuran- cums and said, “Yow promised to return it to me.” He seemed confused for a moment, and sald, “Did I?” “Certainly.” 1 answered. He re- pied that the paper bad been destroyed. On my patting the question again, be said, “That paper was burned up long ago;” and during the next two years, in varions conversations, of his own accord he spoke of 11 as destroyed. I had never asked for nor authorized tne destruction of this paper. bat was not allowed to know that the document Was in existence anti a distinguisiicd euitur in New York, within a few weeks past, assured me that Mr. Moulton had shown him the original, and that he had examined my signature to be sare of its genuineness. | know there was a ccpy of it siuce this statement was in preparation. A REVELATION PULL OF ANGUISH, While I rejected this memorandu.n as my work, or an accurate condensauion of my stacement, It does undoubtedly correctivy represent that | was in proiound sorrow, and that I blamed myset! with great severity for the disasters oi the Tilton family, IT nad not then the light that I now uve. Tuere was much then that weighed heavily upon my heart and conscience which now weizhs only on my heart. I[ bad uot the light which analyzes ana discriminates things. By one biow there opened beiore me a revelation full of anguish, an agonized family, wuose inmates had been my iriends, greatly beloved, the husband ruined in worldly pects, the houseloid crumoling to pieces, the ‘woman by long sickness anu suffering either cor- rupted to deceit, as her husband uileged, or so broken in mind as to be irresponsible, and either Way it was her enthusiasm for her pastor, asi was Made to believe. That was the germ wnd begin- Bing Oi the trouvle. 1t was tor me to have iore- stalled and prevented that mischief, My age and experience im the world should nave put me more on my guard. Icould not at that time tell what Was true and what not true of all the considera- eminent place selied it, Hig roken up, and tions urged upon me by Mr. ‘ilton and Mr. Moulton. There was a grief beiore me, in which Jay those who had been warm iriends and they alleged that I had helped to plunge them therein. That seemed enough to fill wy soni with sorrow ana angaish, No mother Who has lost @ chiid, but will understand the wild seli-accusation that grief provuced against all reason, blaming herself tor what things sne did ao aud .or what she neglected to do, aud chargmg upon herself, her negiect or heedlessness, the death of the cnild, while ordi- Darily every one knows that she had worn berseif ous with her assiduities, Soon aiter this { met Mr. Tilton at Moultun’s house, Either sloul- ton was sick or was very late in rising, for he was in bed. ‘The subject o! my feelings ana conduct toward Tilton was introduced. I made a state- ment of the motives ander which | had acted in counselling Bowen, of my seelings in regard to Mr, Tilton’s family, disclaiming with horror the thought of wrong, and expressing desire to do whatever lay tn human power vo remedy any evil I had occasioned and to reunite his janniy, Tilton was silent and euliéh. TILTON AS AN INJURED MAN, layed tho part of an injured man, but Moule id to Mr, Tilton, with intense emphasis, is all that a genti¢éman can say, and you ought to accept it as an honoravle basis of recon- Citation.” This he repeated two or three times, and Tilton’s countenance cheered up upacr Moul- ton’s strong talk. We shook hands and parted in @ friendly way. Not very long aiterward Tilton asked me to his nouse, and said that he should be giad to have good old times renewed. I do not remember whether I ever took @ meal alter this under his roof, but I certainly was invited by him to renew my visita as formerly. & never resumed my lutimacy with the family; out once or twice I went there soon alter my recon- cihation with Mr. Tilton and bis request. [ Particuiarly remember @ scene which took place ‘at his house, when he talked about his wile and me in a very gracious mood, He began by mourn- ing hia sorrows; he was very desolate; the Juture seemed quite’ dark. After impressing us with his great pationce, he grew generous, Praised me to his Whe, saying That I nad taken upon myself all blame © is trou a had past honorabiy excutpated her, and telling me toat nis wile likewise had behaved very maynaaimoualy , had blamed herself and declared that | was blame- less, and he closed his homily with increasing hope and cheer, saying shat. deep as was his misery, he did not know out that it would work out in the futare a more cheer.) home than he had before. srained my smiles at the ab- surdity of the thing, well have {it evaporate 80, in, he waa generous bis war. Tits seemed to me tbe end of trondie, With a sensitive and honorable man who had no ulterior designs to accomplish it would have beon the burial of the diMicuity. 1 supposea Mr. Tilton had given up the idea of intentional wrong on bar | part and forgiven my unintentional wrong. plainly understand now what | did not then sus- pect, that my trouble of mind was to be Kept alive and nourished, so that l must be used to act on my friend, in securing from Mr. Bowen the inoney which Mr. Tilton ciaimed to be due, as compense- tion for his expulsion trom the two newspapers. BRRCHER'S HIGH OPINION OF TILTON'S VIRTUR. Mr. Moulton and Mr. ‘liltom both strove to ubiit erate from my mind ail veliei in the rumors that had been ciréulated about Mr. Tilton, There wae Much gowg, on in silencing, explaining, arrang- ing, &o, that Ldid pot uoierstaned as Wei! thet As now, Bator one thing | was convincwd—ViA, that Mr, Tilton had tue highess seaxe a avaribad