Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1868-1875, 1871-03-05

you would imagine, with far greater yelo
city than comfort-for while the saliva
ton of my life was undoubtedly due Il
those limbs, my own limbs and body
were one vast confusion. The lower limbs
of the beech, you are aware, are usually
near the ground; therefore my fall fI
the clear, as bridge men say, was almos
trife. The stream beneath the tree wa!
something over waist deep, and afforded
me an excellent spot to light upon.
Gaining my feet in the water, (more from
instinct or accident than design, } graspeC
drift log, and steadied myself until
had recovered consciousness and strength
sufficient to wade ashore. Though al
most incapacitated for travel, l at onct
started in what thought northwesterly
direction, determined to reach Kentucky
as soon as possible. / Travelled all thai
night, the whole of next day, and unit
about two o'clock the following night,
when I came upon what / afterwards
learned to be the Cumberland river.
With my characteristic luck, soon found
q skiff Tor dug out as the people there
called ii, } in which l made my way down
to Buksville, little town on the river,
whence l made my way to Louisville,
and thence to my home in Virginia"
Near the close of the late war, while
on business tour through Kentucky, ]
stopped one afternoon at little town in
the central part of the State. l had
scarcely registered my name at the hotel
when DR.. c., an old schoolmate whom
had not seen for number of years, hear.
ing of my arrival, called to see me, and,
after short chat concerning our young
and better days, invited me to ride with
him to a soldiers hospital in the out
skirts of the village, of which he had the
charge.
While waiting for the Doctor, who had
gone up stairs to see Lieutenant who
was lying very low, concluded that l
would ''walk the wards, " as they say in
medical parlance. i had gone but short
distance down side aisle of the room
when my eyes fell upon what seemed to
be the wreck of once noble man. His
form was wasted by disease, and his
countenance was the picture of care and
solicitude. l sat down by the bedside
and asked him if there was anything that
/ could do in the way of relief.
'sNo, my FRIEND" said the poor fellow,
lifting his hollow eyes up into mine, sit
is mental and not bodily comfort that
long for now," and, then tossing his head
upon his pillow, he exclaimed, "Oh, the
pastl the dark and most terrible past!"
The latter sentence, uttered in solilo-
guy and anguish, clearly portrayed the
nature of his mental agony-there was a
burden upon his soul that he was unable
to bear.
'sForget the dark and terrible past, :"
said ], 'and fix your thoughts upon the
dark and terrible future"
81 thank you, young man, for your
kindly advice. But how can / forget
that which haunts me by day and night"
"Tell me-" replied, "what it is that
haunts you by day and night, and 1 will
teach you how to forget it."
Raising himself upon his elbow, he
took hold of my right hand, and with
tears of gratitude dripping from his
cheeks, said:
"Your humane and disinterested kind
ness has wholly disarmed me of fear.
will tell you now the secret agony l have
so long endured, and ask your prayers in
my behalf. 1 had scarcely reached my
majority, when becoming tired of my
old home, and being possessed of a way
ward and adventurous spirit, sought the
highway in the desolate region of South
western Virginia, and there, for upward
of two years, in company with four
notorious freebooters from North
Carolina. l led the life of an
outlaw. I have not the strength to
relate to you all our deeds of shame.
There is one, however, more dreadful to
me than all the rest, as it was the only in
stance in which, with my own hands, Itook
the life of fellow creature. One stormy
night there came to our den, which stood
upon the top of an almost insurmountable
height, a young man who had lost his
way, and who mistook the light which
shone through our door for a fisherman's
torch. When the poor fellow entered we
were prepared to go down on the road
as we termed it, and there was no time
to be lost. We had no means of i'm
prisoning him, and were afraid to release
him and trust to his honor. So it was
decided that l, being the most powerful
physically, should cast him down the
precipice, which l did, and now, oh,
sir
THANK Heaven!" l exclaimed, "for
this hour of my life. Your supposed
victim is with you now, with heart of
sympathy and forgiveness.
1 must leave you now to picture the
expressions of mingled joy and wonder
and gratitude of that poor man as l mi
nutely described, by way of convincing
him of the existence of the man whom he
he had murdered, the appear
ance of his mountain re reat and its sur
roundings, as l rel ed TO him my
marvellous escape.
called to see him the next morning,
and found him in company with the chap,
lain, to whom he had related with Joy
the scene of the evening before. He
welcomed me with a smile of content
ment, and assured me that he wss now
stripped Of the thoughts of murder, and
was willing to die. The poor fellow
soon after passed away.