The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1872-08-01

great heavens. it was my eyes and
not my ears that We're busiest then
for beneath the table, covered with q
crimson cloth, and which I faced, ap,
. peared the face Of q child. The hair
was rumpled, and the blue eyes were
/ just opening from sleep. The intelii-
( gent forehead was wrinkled strangely
I It was my boy Billy. I was afraid be
would cry papa" If he did, the i'm
! plaeable man would add the murder
of the Child 10 the murder of the
father.
But my boy did none Of this. He
had, | suppose, csept under the table
! unknown to me, and had fallen asIeer
! there. tried to tell the little fellow
TO hide again snd wait for the final
half hOHr, when my tOrmentOr would
be gone. Whether he understood me
or not, aided by what he heard, / DO
not know, but quickly Withdrew his
little head, first kissing his little hand
lightly at me, and then shaking his
| fist at the schemer watching 50 bellig-
! ereutly his dumb fire agents.
| The half hour wore slowly away. q
heavens! what agony did 1 suffer
Not for myself, but for my child. 4
slight noise might discover his pres.
ence to him; the match might run its
! tetheT sooner than was expected; he
might be murdered or blown to at.
oms.
The fuse burned On-on. The hall
hour is up. The brother Of the mur.
derer arises to 90. JOyi
Commit your soul to Gods keep
/ ing" he said. "YOu hold the evi-
dence of my brothers. guilt-nothing
can save you now"
With that he turned to take his hat
from Off the table, covered with the
crimson cloth, beneath which hid in
my priceless boy. Something attrac-
ted his attention. He held out his
hands and leaned forward. / 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 turning
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. How my
boy cried for help! The old college
Tung with his voice. The prisoners
brother added his voice to my boys
in his agony. He begged, he be-
seeehed-au his nerves were racked-
great waves of galvanism leaped,
surged, trembled and Jared over ev-
cry sensitive nerve and fibre. Still my
boy was infieXible, and shouted and
turned faster. Unperceiyed upon the
marble, in track of the burning fuse,
was pool of inflammable oil. In an
instant great length burned away.
1t would last just five minutes, and no
more!
"Father" shouted my boy, 'if no
assistance comes, this villain must
die with us. / dare not let him free.
HelpI help! helpr"
Thank God But some one else
did. The fuse is burnt up. The rope
is on fire-tEe nitrO-glycerinel The
door opens; Tom Richards, on q mid
night visit to the sick, has heard the
cry; he eOmprehends all; seizes the
can in his hand; the weight descends
indeed, but not on the death-dealing
oil. No; down it goes, through the
office floor-dOwn, down like an evil
spirit, to give back a dull metallic
echo from the stones of the cellar be-
meath.
We are saved
Joe Johnson, the prisoner, was
hanged; but his brother remains I'M
punished by the laws, for he stabbed
with a knife, and thus escaped
the hangman's rope.