The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1858-11-18

All that is noble in woman's nature sh'
had lost, and all that is hateful be clunC
to with love that she could not ebnquer
Poor poor Eadeline and YET bsleSu
Madeline We
But sunshine cane iSS.o my cell, ons
day. | was not very web. and the keeper
had let me keep my room. was reclin-
ing on my bed, and thinking how dreary
was oil the world, and how little friends
are 10 be relied on when their friendship
would be counted by The world disgrace
iul to them. did not care to live then.
J felt as if | could not 90 out Of prison
Shen my time expired, and take by the
hand old friends, looking at them with
llbet frank, bold, open expression which a
great many had admired me for. Honor,
henceforth, did not belong to me. Mfe's
pleasant ways were oyergrown with
weeds, rank and tall, and years Of homes.
ty and purity could not tear them away.
Dreary, dreary was the prospect as
looked ahead. Scornful countenances,
retusals 70 take me by the hand, averled
faces, that | used to love, SWAN before
me 10 the look.ahead 10 freedom. heard
the cry of roBber and ;hief, and placed
my hands over my ears to shut out the
horrid sound.
Sandy! Sandy Martini
Like the low, sweet chime Of bells came
that woman's voice into my CELL and |
thought that sunshine came in food
through the grated window. Was
dreamingl Alas, yes! Even my poor
pure Pauline had forgotten me. The love
she bore for me had been driven, cold
with shame, back into her pure heart
She would remember me only to be a.
shamed of me hencetorth. Oh, Paulinel
| thought heard your voice; it was as
sweet as in the olden time, when | was
free from crime, and never chain had
kept me down prisoner. Dear PaulueI
how that dresm-like voice--it seemed
dream like to me--swept the chords OF
my heart, and the music there was pleas
ant, for it carried me back to the days
when l was proud and my hands had no
blood on them--when l felt that / was
worthy of even your love. / had been
only dreaming. though. Even Pauline
had not come to my prison cell--even she
could not do that. And yet / heard the
voice so plainly!--its music rang clear and
sweet to my heart, and l lay very still,
fearful that my moving would break the
spell
Sandy Martini
The voice was broken, as if with grief.
Twas not dreaming, surely. 1t was Pau
line S voice. knew it. sprang to my
feet; my eyes were dim, and | could
scarcely see. The bolts of the heavy iron
door had been drawn back, and had not
heard the noise. The door stood open a
little way, and Pauline stood in the open,
ing. afraid yet wanting4o advance.
Poor Sandy Please let me come in?
| could not speak. 1t was Pauline,
then. She who had been before me,
my guardian angel, ever since my con-
fnement. For Ihad seen her in my day.
dreams and in my night-dreams. She
to me sad all the while, and
there vs. gh expression on her face which
was sympathy's own. Dear Pauline! /
knew ny minds eye had not deceived me
when I saw her in the doorway--when
size wanted to come in and dared not, and
pleaded, as if it were privilege, with
tears in her sweet blue eyes
You do not want me? she asked, and
her voice was more broken than before -
Pardon me, and she walked away, hest.
tatingly.
Come in, Pauline!' / made out to say,
Don't leave me so soon, with simply a
look al your dear face. Ihave wanted TO
see you very much, but thought you
would not dare, would not wish, to ever
speak to me again!'
And how gratifed was she when Isaid
that! She thanked me, just as if l was
a free man, and advanced as humbly as if
l had been king. She would not both
er me long. She was afraid she intruded.
But she had news for me which she
thought | would like TO hear, and it was
so pleasant to her to please me.
Pauline, you are an angelP l said.
You have dred to face the frowns Of
your friends that you might bring good
news TO man as bad as /. Bless you
for this!'
don't think many women have such
eyes as Pauline. When she turned them
on me, after said that, they were very,
very expressive of gratitude; and for a
moment she even forgot--if, indeed, she
of it at all, only when she sym
pathized with me--that was prisoner
Thank you. Sandy she said, thought
fully, and then she added, after moment:
Il should think but little of those words
from any one bat you; but know that
you are sincere. prize your good opin-
ion. Excuse me for saying SO, won't
you?'
She looked up quickly, as if afraid that
her secret had escaped at last, and /
knew she loved me still.
Ny good opinion, Pauline! You for
get how black with crime ! ami
You abuse yourself, Sandy Martin,
she earnestly answered You are too
good, too noble, to be very black with
crime. How your soul revolts now at the
remembrance of that fearful night. 1
know it does. You were not in your
right mind, | am sure. You took no
pains to conceal the deed. And, Sandy
Il l:I Lon ,o,,Il L,pd nm NV avn,