Pomeroy weekly telegraph. [volume] (Pomeroy, Meigs County, Ohio) 1860-1866, 1860-07-03
precisely as he had leaned himself when

he. first went to his seat Lugare looked
at the boy occasionally with a scowl
which BODIED vengeance for his sulkiness
At length the last class had been heard
and the last lesson recited, and Lugare
seated himself behind his desk on the
platform, with his longest and stoutest
rattan before him.
CHOW Baker," he said "we'll settle
that little business of yours. Just step
up here" Tim did not move. The
school-room was as still as the grave
Not sound was to be heard, except, oc-
easionally long drawn breath.
"Mlnd me, sir, or it will be the worse
for you. Step up here and take off your
jacket"
The boy did not stir any more than if
he had been wood. Lugare shook with
passion. He sat still minute, as if con-
sidering the best way to wreak his ven
geance. That minute passed in death
like silence, and was fearful one to
some of the. children, for their faces
whitened with fright. 1t seemed, as il
slowly dropped away, like the minute
which precedes the climax of an exquis
itely performed tragedy, when some
mighty master of the histonic art is
treading the stage, and you and the mul.
titude around, are waiting with stretched
nerves and suspended breath, in expec,
tation of the terrible catastrophe.
'Tim's asleep, sir, at length said one
of the boys who sat near him.
Lugare, at this intelligence, allowed
his features to relax from their expires
sion Of savage anger, with a smile; but
that smile looked more malignant, if pos
sible, than its former scowls. It might
be that he felt amused at the horror de-
picted on the faces of those about him
or it might be that he was gloating in
pleasure on the way in which he in,
tended to wake the poor little slumberer
"Asleep, are you, my young gentle
man" said he; let us see if we can't fine
something to tickle your eyes open
There is nothing like making the best O.
bad case, boys Tim, here, is deter.
mined not to be worried in his mind
about a little fogging, for the thought o
it can't even keep the little seoundre
awake"
Lugare smiled again as he made the
last observation. He grasped the rattan
firmly and descended from his seat. With
light and stealthy steps he crossed the
room, and stood by the unlucky sleeper
The boy was still unconscious of his
impending punishment as ever. HI
might be dreaming some golden dream
of youth and pleasure; perhaps he wa
far away in the world of fancy, seeing
scenes and feeling delights which col
reality never can bestow.
Lug gar lifted his rattan high over hi
head, and with the true and expert ain
which he acquired by long practice
brought it down ON Tins back with
force and whacking sound, which semec
sufficient to wake freezing man in hi
lethargy.
Quick and fast blow followed blow
Without waiting to see the effect of hi
first cut, the brutal wretch piled his in
strument of torture, first ON one side o
the boys back, and then ON the other
and only stopped at the end of two o.
three minutes from mere weariness.
But still Tim showed no sign of mo
ton; and as Lugare, provoked at his tor
pidity, jerked away one of the child
arms, on which he had been leaning
over the desk, his head dropped from hi
grasp, and his eyes, stretched wide open
glared at some monstrous spectacle, O
horror and death. The sweat started il
great globules seemingly from every por
in his face; his skinny lips contracted
and showed his teeth-and when he a
length stretched forth his arm, and will
the end of one of his fingers touched tn
child's cheek, each limb quivered lik
the tongue of a snake, and his strength
, seemed, as though it would momentaril,
fail him.
The boy was dead! He had probabl.
, been so for some time, for his eyes wer
turned up, and his body was quite cold
The widow was now childless, too
Death was in the school-room, and Lu
gare had been fogging corpse!