Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1865-11-23

opposite wall. l heard the Watchman cry.
ing through the silence of the night
asleep, inhabitants of Nuremberg: the
Lord watches overyou One o'clock-two
o'clock-three o'clock !' People say that
it is better to suffer death as an innocent
man than as guilty onej and as regards the
soul it certainly is; but the poor injured
body, suffering unjustly, rebels, and its
transports of recoiling horror at its unde-
served, inevitable fate are terrible.
Day dawned and slowly lighted up my
gloomy prison. The window looked on the
street. 1t was a market day, and heard
the rolling of the carts, laden with fruits
and vegetables. l could distinguish the
cackliug of live poultry, and the animated
discourse Of the butter.women. As the
morning advanced, the din became greater,
and the-buzz and movement Of life around
me seemed to restore courage to my heart.
I felt al irresistible desire to See what was
going on around ME, and to look once more
on the faces of my fellow men.
My predecessors in the cell, animated, no
doubt, by a like desire, had scooped holes
in the wall, to facilitate their mounting to
the window. l climbed up, and holding
the bars, managed to seat myself on the
narrow ledge. Once there, I gazed en-
tranced on the crowd, the life, the move.
ment tears flowed down my cheeks; felt
an intense longing for life as life; simply to
breathe, and move, and feel the sun
"Ah !" exclaimed, "to live-only to live !!
Let them sentence me to hard labor; let
them attach a weight to my leg. What
does it matter, provided only that I live !"
The quaint old market on which 1 looked
offered gay and animated spectacle. The
peasant women in their Bavarian costumes,
were seated behind their baskets of eggs,
fruit and vegetables, and their cages filled
with poultry; butchers with naked arms
we're cbopping meat on their blocks peas
ants with their large brimmed felt hats set
far back on their heads, leaned on their
stout holly sticks, and smoked their pipes.
The changing, animated scene captivated
my attention, and, in spite of me, distracted
my thoughts from my sad situation. As l
continued to gaze on the crowd, butcher
passed by, his back bent under the weight
of an enormous quarter of beef which he
had bore on his shoulders His arms were
bare, his elbows raised, his head bent down
in front. His hair falling down in a meas
ure concealed his face, and yet at the first
glance I shuddered. "It is be p 1 ex-
claimed inwardly.
All my blood flew back to my heart. l
leaped from the window down into my pris.
on, shivering, my teeth chattering, while
the rebellious blood flowed back again, and
mounted hotly to my cheeks and forehead.
"It is he. He is there-Mere-and |
Il must die to expiate his crime! o my
God, help me What am I to do"
A sudden idea, an Inspiration, as I believe,
from heaven, darted through my mind. l
put my hand into my coat pocket, and found
my case of crayons. Rushing to the clean
whitewashed wall, sketched the scene of
the murder with marvellous force and ra.
pidity. No more uncertainty, no more wa
veriug attempts. knew the man who
grasped the luckless woman's throat; saw
him, as if be we're sitting to me for his por-
trait. At ten o'clock the jailer entered my
cell
"What is this ?" he said, looking with
surprise at my sketch.
$50, ask my judges to come bither," I
cried, still pursuing my work with feVerish
ardor
"They await you in the Hall of Judg-
ment," he replied he.
"Tell them to come; have a disclosure
to make," said I, as | put the finishing
tough to the murderer's figure. 1t looked
as if it lived and breathed foreshadowed
on the wall, the features stood out with won-
derful force and reality.
The jaier wentout and in few minutes
the two judges appeared. With my hand
extended, and trembling in every limb, I
said to them "Behold the assassin ="
Won Spreckdahl carefully and quietly
examined the sketch. "His name ?" he
inquired.
81 know it not" replied; "but at this
moment he is in the market, cutting up meat
at the third stall on the left, as you enter
from the Traubauten Strasse."
"What do you advise ?" said my judge
to his colleague.
"That We should instantly send for the
man." replied be in grave tone.
Stepping out into the corridor, he gave
his orders to the policemen stationed there.
During their absence the two judges re.
mained standing contemplating the sketch.
Suffering from strong reaction, 1 sank on
the ground and buried my head between my
knees.
Soon steps sounded from afar along the
Waited passages. Those who have not wait
ed for the hour of deliverance, and counted
the minutes, to them as long as centuries
those who have not felt the poignant emo
tious of suspense, terror, hope and doubt
they cannot conceive the sharp agony of
that moment. l could have distinguished
the footsteps of the murderer, marching
between his guard from thousand Others
They approached the judges themselves
appeared moved. l raised my head, and
my heart felt though as it were grasped by
an iron hand My eyes were fixed on the
closed door; it opened the man entered.
His cheeks were red and swollen his large
jaws were contracted, causing bis muscles
To atand ont auan I'M To his ears and his