together. It was the Alexandria _Times and Advertiser_, of May, 1798.
Instinctively my eyes caught the following notice:

"_Counterfeit Dollars._ The public are requested to be on
their guard with respect to a number of counterfeit dollars
of the United States, now passing in this city. They are
made of block-tin and pewter, and, if not quite new, may be
detected on sight. They are well cast, and, therefore, the
impression is exact; but the milling around the edge is
nothing like the true dollar, thereby may be easily known.
They are about four penny-weights too light."

"The paper fell from my hands. Why I could not tell, and yet the
reading of that paragraph seemed connected with my life. Had that box
merchandise in it? Had my husband become one of a gang of base money
coiners? He could not have fallen so low; he was too good and too
honest. That mysterious box was always present, turn which way I
would. I felt impelled to go to the cellar and examine it. There could
be no harm in merely looking; it would ease my troubled brain. I took
the lantern and stealthily groped my way down into the damp earthy
atmosphere. It was silent as death there; the dim light revealed
nothing but the box. I held the lantern up over it, and the uncertain
flickering of its rays fell upon the lid. There was no denying the
ownership, it was marked in large bold letters, 'John Othard.' Now, I
must know what it contained; I could wait no longer; a sort of
determined malice took possession of me to connect it with the
newspaper, and with my husband--fiendish thought. I did not desire to
prove him other than the pure and noble man I had loved; but I was not
myself--I would do it just to still my excited suspicions. Putting the
lamp down over the name, as if that could blot it out, I went up the