The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1867-06-28

Gods sake don't hang him, and bring
his blood upon my head!'
They took her by force and carried
| her away, while a murmur rose
through the court, and the blood stir
red in some hearts. Then the judge
rose again, and began his address.
Half an hour afterwards the jury had
retired, and before another hour had
passed they had brought in their YER
dict--Guilty but recommended to mer-
cy. Then the Judge put on the black
cap; and passed sentence on him;
He had sat with his head buried in
his hands during the absence of the
jury; when they came back and spoke
their verdict he leaped up with sud
den wild beast yell of terror, the only
sound that had come from him all
day. But it seemed to be only mo-
mentary awakening of his old fero-
cious nature. Almost instantly he
subsidized again, and stood gazing with
vacant stare into the judges face as
he pronounced the sentence. Then he
let himself be led out quietly.
They had taken Priscilla into an
ante-room through which he would
pass on his way back to prison. Some
one had told her the verdict when it
was announced, and her heart attached
itself. wi tn a ray of hope that was
/ strong enough to sustain her, to its
recommendation of mercy. She came
to him now as they led him out of the
court, and cried to him as she came
near
Father speak one word to mel"
He looked In her face, and said
slowly -
I'm not yer father. Ye're an old
woman ye're not Pris, though We have
a look O. her. 4t
Hush! hush he's wandering lit
tie. He's been doing it once or twice
lately" one of the men at his side said
quickly. -
But Priscilla had burst into terrible
tears. 1t was best so, perhaps; yet
this was as the drop that made her
cup run over.
Without word she followed after
him as he passed on. They let her
do it, and she entered into the prison
with him. z, -. - i -
You'd better not stay here alone
with him." the turnkey said to her,
remembering their last meeting on the
day he was committed; but she
answered quietly 1 am not afraid ~
and stayed.
They had laid him down on his
bed, and she went and sat beside him.
He was muttering to himself in a
wandering, childish way. She took
his hand in hers. and bending over
him, began presently to cry to him.
Father, father, tell me that you
know me. Father, say kind word
to me, for my heart is breaking
| But he did not answer her or no.
| tice her for long time. She did not
even know if he was conscious of her
presence till once, as she was stoop-
ing over him, and the tears she shed
so seldom were falling on his face,
he looked up to her, vacantly at first,
| then with a faint apparent effort at
recollection, and at last he spoke:
"What ails YEP" he said slowly.
Are ye not my lass Pris?
There was no anger In his tone.
nothing in it of the fierce brutality
with which he had spoken to her last.
The blot in his memory had effaced
his recollection of all the recent past;
and the woman, with great cry, that
was half anguish and half thanksgiv-
ing, fell on his neck, and through her
sobs she kissed him for the first time
that her lips had touched his for long
years.
They did not hang Gregory Hutch
inson. He never more than partially
recovered his right mind again About
all connected with his trial his mem
DRY, as long as he lived remained dark.
| He varied a good deal in his mood.
| Sometimes he would be sullen and
| fierce, but his ordinary state was one
| of quiet, vacant harmlessness, and by
degrees his fits of rage grew more and
more rare, till at last they ceased
entirely. He was removed to an
asylum for insane criminals,
and there Priscilla was allowed to
visit him at regular intervals; but he
manifested neither pleasure nor anger
at sight of her; all resentment against
her had, with the memory of ats
cause. passed away He lived for
humber of years, till Priscilla's erect
figure had begun to bend, and the
streaked hair had become wholly
gray. Then at last one day they
| found him lying in his bed dead.
His death snapped the last cord that
| bound Priscilla to another living soul.
From that time until the.end of her
days she lived alone-a woman who
felt that the world looked on her as
one with something darker even than
a Gains mark on her brow. But to
her loneliness and to her sorrow there
was added, at least in her own heart,
no sting of remorse. She did not ac-
cuse herself for what she had
done; she never lived to repent that
she had not bought her fathers life