The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1871-09-29

end Ofit-that little irresponsible ter
ror that, less than merciful Providence,
told a man the second ne was to q .
If fright and horror spared him to
itself
Slowly the flame crept, snake-like,
around the twine.
''In one hour,n said the prisoners
brother, ''yoU VIII be In heaven or
hell. j viii watch with you for half
an hour, and the other half you viii
spend alone.n
He sat down some minutes in a
chair watching the fame. Then he
arose and took the piece of porcelain
with the murdeTeF's mark thereon
from the table and shook his head
gloomily.
81 am chemist enough to know it
is arsenic" he said. "Yes, those
bright, metallic eyes, betrayer Of
the eultyl Science, thou wOuldst
kill my brother! Thou shalt save him.
Let US see in whose hands thou art
most powerful Here is 8 man who
by thy aid, bids the poison spite up
rise and writes In brilliant characters
foul confession on this piece Of pOr-
celRin. But behold, o science! It is
no sooner written than, by thy aid,
the whole confession and thy chosen
servant ami Silated. Let the good
professor use his chemicals, the bad
brother only 7ks-a little can Of nj
trO-gIycerine.
heard this speech, indeed; but
great heayensl 1t was my eyes and
not my ears that were busiest then;
for beneath the table; covered by the
crimson cloth Of which I have before
spoken, and which faced, appeared
the head OF q child. The hair was
rumpled, and the blue eyes were just
opening from sleep. The intelligent
forehead was Wrinkled strangely. 1t
was my boy Billy. was afraid he
would cry Hpapa." If he did, the i'm
placable man would add the murder
of the child ito the murder of the
But my boy did none of this. He
had, Isuppose, crept under the table
unknown to me, and fallen asleep
there. I tried to tell the little fellow to
to hide again, and wait for final half
hour when my tormentOr would be
gone. Whether he understood me. .or
not, aided by what he had heard,
did not know; hut he quickly with
drew his little curly head, first kissing
his hand lightly at me, and then shak-
ing his fist at the schemer VIZ
so belligerently his dumb fire agents.
The half hour wore slowly away.
o heavens! what agony did L sufferI
not for myself, but for my child. A
light noise might discover his presence;
the match Nigh run its tether sooner
than was expected. He might be
murdered or blown to atoms.
The fuse burned on-on. The half
hour Is up!
The brother of the murderer rises
%Cornrnit your soul to Gods keep
ing,n he said. "You hold the evil
dences of my brothers. guilt-nothing
can save you noWl"
With that he turned to take his hat
from of the table covered with the
crimson cloth, beneath which had
my priceless boy. Something attract
ed his attention. He held out bis
hands and leaned forward. I thought
he had discovered my boyl MOI he
was lifting something in either hand
the wires of the electric battery. In
another instant my boy had leaped
from under the table, and was turn
ing the crank fast and furiously.
The murdefer's brother was in the
power Of my boy. He could not drop
the wires; he was helpless and mo-
tionless. How my boy cried for help.
The oldl college rung again. The pris-
oner's brother added his voice to my
boys in his agony. He begged, he
beseeched-all his nerves were racked
great waves Of gaIyanism leaped,
suTged, and trembled, and Jared over
every sensitive nerve and fibre. Still
my boy was infexible, and shouted
and turned faster. Unperceived, up
on the marble, In the track OF the
burning fuse was pool Of infamma-
BILE oil. In an instant great length
burned away. 1t would last just five
minutes and no more.
"Fatherli shouted my boy, ''if no
assistance comes, this william must
die with US; dare not let him free.
HeIpI helpl help!"
Alas! could not answer him.
But some one else didl Thank God!
The fuse is burnt upl The rope is on
| fire, the nitro-glycerine. The door
opens, Tom Richards on a midnight
| visit to the sick, has heard the cry.
! He comprehends all, seizes the can in
/ his hand-the weight descends, in
| deed, but not on the death-dealing oil.
| No, down it goes through the office
| floor, down, down, like an evil spirit
/ to give back dull metallic echo from
| the stones of the cellar beneath.
| We are savedl
| Joe Johnson, the prisoner, was
hanged, but his brother remains un-
| punished by the law, for he stabbed
! himself with q knife, and thus escaped
the ha8gman's rope.
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