The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1871-09-28

me under this weight, and send me
out of the world in novel way by
letting it fall and dashing my biains
out?
To the sink end he attached n long
yellow string.
Under the weight OH the floor ne
placed the can Of nitro-glycerlne! l
recognized the yellow string; 1t was
fuse, and 1t would burn across tne
marble slab-there was no hop" OF its
igniting any substance that Woulu
warn my friends. 10,
WDo YOU began to see through itT'
asked Joe Johnson's brother.
believe / cursed him with my
eyes. could only breathe through
NV nostrils, and great veins were
swelling and growing hot In my fore
head.
Drawing match from his pocket
he lighted and applied 1t to the fuse,
that little tyrant that gave u man an
hour to live, and killed him at the
end ofit-that little irresponsible ter
ror that, less than merciful Provide ce,
told man the second he was to II q
II fright and horror spared him to
itself!
Slowly the flame ,rept, snakc-like,
around the twine.
"In one h)ur," said the prisoners
brother, "you will be in heaven or
hell. | Will watch with you for half
an hour, and the other half you will
spend alone"
He sat down some minutes In o
chair watching the flame. Then he
arose and took the piece OF porcelain
with the murdercr's mark thereon
from the table and shook his head
glo0mily.
'I am chemist enough to know 1t
is arsenic" he said. "Yes, those
bright, metallic eyes, a betrayer OF
the guilty! Science, thou wOuldst
kill my brother! Thou shalt save him.
LET us see in whose hands thou art
most powerful. Here is a man who
by thy aid, bids the poison sprite up
rise and writes in brilliant characters
foul confession on this piece OF por-
celain. But behold, o science! 1t Is
no sooner written than, by thy aid,
ne whole confession and thy chosen
servant annihilated. Let the good
professor use his chemicals, the bad
brother only aslis-a little can OF nj
tro-glyccrinc."
/ heard this speech, indeed; but
great heavens! it was my eyes ana
not my ears that were busiest then;
for beneath the table; covered by the
crimson cloth of which / have before
spoken, and which faced, appeared
the head Of a child. The hair was
rumpled, and the blue eyes were Just
ope,iing from sleep. The intelligent
forehead was wrinkled strangely; 1t
was my boy Billy. ! was afraid he
would cry "papa." II he did, the I'M
placable man would add the murder
of the child to the murder OF the
father. -
But my boy did none Of this. He
had, Isuppose, crept under the lapie
unknown to me, AID fallen asleep
there. / tried to tell the little fellow to
to hide again, and wait for final half
hour when my tormentor would De
gone. Whether he undelsto0d me or
not, aided by what he had heard l
did not know; but he quickly With
drew his little curly head, first kissing
his hand lightly at me, and then slrak-
ing his fist at tho achemer W.
80 belligerently his dumb fire agents.
The half hour wore slowly away.
O heavens! what agony did | suffer!
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
to go! JOY!
dt'ommit your soul to Gods keep
inv,u he said. "You hold the evil
denccs Of my brothers. guilt-nothing
can save you now!"
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 his
hands and leaned forward. l thought
he had discovered my boy! No! 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 murderer's brother was in the
power Of my boy. He could not drop
the wires; he was helpless and mo-
tionlcss. 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
beseechcd-all his nerves were racked
great waves of galvanism leaped,
surged, and trembled, and Jared over
every sensitive nerve and fibre. Still
my boy was inflexible, and shouted
and turned faster. Unperceivcd, up
on the marble, in the track OF the
burning fuse was a pool OF inilamma-
bic oil. In an instant u great length
burned away. 1t would last just five
minutes and no more.
"Father!" shouted my boy, "if no
assistance comes, this william must
die with us; / dare not let him free.
Help! help! helpp
Alas! could not Answer him.
But some one clse ul1! Thank GOu! |
The fuse is burnt up! The rope Is on
fire, the nitro-glycerine. The door
opens, Tom Richards on midnight |
visit to the sick, has heard the cry.
He cOmprehends all, scizcs the can In |
his hand-the weight dcsccnds, 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 saved!
Joe Johnson, the prisoner, was
hanged, but his brother remains un-
punished by the law, for he stabbed |
himself with a knife, and thus escaped
the hangman's rope.
The Rothschilds own one hundred |
and forty-four splendid buildings in