The New York herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1840-1920, 1873-08-03

my giving IL entire. The writer was q man OIL R0Od
education and very liberal culture, but by con-
tinuous chain Of misfortunes, likely to surround
any one. his business and social position lost
50 that he was turned into the world, homeless,
friendless and utterly destitute The narrative
opens with a brief description Of his home, his
mother and his sister, for both OF whom he enter
tanned the most afectionate regard He
speaks OF his sister as "a blessed waif
from GOd," to comfort his father and
himself when the mother. 'blessed comforter OF
all, was gone" Then he portrays the nrst tempta-
tom tells us how he yielded, fell. was discovered
and forced to nee from home. So hot was the pur-
suit OF the officers that he ran with naked feet
across the 'harsh stubbe" and 'up the stony
mountain side" the blood oozing out at every leap.
He tells US, too, that many times he fell and that
great gashes were cut in his face as he stumbled
over the rocks. He concealed himself for two en-
tire days In the thicket, and then ned the country
forever. Gradually as the months went on, he
drfted here and on his way "was Obliged' to
commit acts OF theft to keep together "a fainting
body and a ruined soun His talent was quite
great In almost every respect 50 that he was soon
regarded as an expert; and though the police felt
sure that he was guilty OF many gross crimes he
still was sufficiently cunning to evade arrest.
AT LAST, HOWEVER, HE WAS CAUGHT,
but by means OF great physical strength he
managed to break away from the detectives, and
with his revolver In his hand. dashed down the
street at furious rate, rendering the distance
between himself and his pursuers greater at every
stride. A few squares further Oh he knew would
afford him secure protection for within his hidden
quarters the scrutiny Of the police he says could
never penetrate" He would have reached them
but for one incident lie saw at few PAGES ahead
of him two roughs, ana they bore with them the
figure Of q young girl He was In haste. For the
moment the criminaty of their act was never
even thought OF, and he would have bounded past
them all unheedingy but for the light touch of
delicate fingers as lie wildly dew Oh in his course
He paused, and at the next moment came to q
standstill. The circumstance Is thus described:-
Twas not her lace, with its ashen lips,
For was'in haste that day,
But the pressure OF delicate finger tips,
AS madly plunged on my way.
His position was critical, aud for a moment he
wavered. II he ran on he could find shelter and
projections; II he paused arrest and Imprisonment
must surely be his fate. There was, however, an
eloquence in the girls unconscious touch that
thrilled him. lie tried to proceed He could not.
Some power seemed to turn his steps backward.
Bygone days came up before him. The girl was
somebody's sister, and ut once he felt for her as he
would have felt Tor his own. This great emotion
upon his part was not owing to any word the girl
spoke, for, indeed, she uttered none, but the way
in which she looked at him.
She raised her form in its strength SO faint,
She bound her hand in her hair;
Her deep eyes glOwed like those OF a saint
And her lips wore frozen prayer.
That one glance was enough, for in it the past
and the present were both blotted out. He made
dash for the two men bearing her away. zone
fell down at his pistols shot," but tho other,
springing forward like tiger, struck him on the
wrist with a knife and cleaved his arm, from his
hand to his elbow to the bone. He felt not the
wound, but fought on like hero, while the blood
gushed from his cash in streams. He was trying
to shield the girl from the blows for the rough still
held her by the hand ana the next stroke OF the
knife struck his cheek and laid IL as open as his
arm. Maddened by the blow, crazed and frenzied
beyond description, he made final dash and sent
his antagonist to the ground. Just then the de.
tectives came up and found him.
IN VAIN THE LADY PLEADED,
as she wrapped her arm around him and wildly
kissed his bleeding face in vain she pesought them
let him CO. The stern hand of justice Is relent-
less, and whether it moves In defence OF human
law in the ligbtning's stroke, it will ever, at some
day or another bring every single guilty soul to
judgment. The man for whom the woman pleaded
was senseless His blood dyed the ground in a
crimson tide; he had not the strength to raise
q finger and it was in this condition that
he was carried of to the doctor under
whose hands, during his treatment, he wrote
the poem now before me. Daily the rescued girl
came near his bedside. All that human hand
could do for any one her hand did for him. In the
busy hours OF the day, in the still and solemn mo-
ments of the night she was there, fighting death
with him, and passionateIy praying for his life.
Then from afar came another woman, pure and
aud tho nctn ra
knew from the way she wept over him that she
must be his sister An old man, too was there
the father; but the mother, oh the mother was
no more. Oh, how earnestly the three prayed to-
gether and how heartily the convict joined in the
prayers He died but ere the last spark went out
his hand had penned the verses with which the
poem ends:-
Forgive, Oh God forgive,
And lead me in the light
Grant but an hour for me to live
From this eternal night
The blackness seems to grow,
Its weight falls on my heart;
Oh let there come sacred glow
And rend the heavens apart
And let me enter there,
Forever to live
Father or Mercy, hear my prayer,
Forgive, God, forgive
There is nothing remarkable in this effusion, nor
could It's many verses be considered as even mod
erately good poetry, but beneath Its simple rhythm
there is an undercurrent of the strongest emotions
at the touch OF which we are awed, and pity Is ex-
cited from the deepest depths OF our souls. cam
not help turning away from it with feelings Of sad
ness, for believe that from its plot crowded it
is with incidents of the most tender as well the
most tragic interest, master mind could deduct a
poem whose fame would become world wide.
WILL GIVE ANOTHER EFFUSIoN
OF an entirely different nature, and then this hur-
ried letter must draw to close. It is q poem
written by Patrick Moony, who unfortunately be-
came enamored with Biddy McCarter, and through
his devotion to her was Unexpectedly summoned
TO justice for theft Bddy was by no means an
ordinary creature, as the opening stanza Of Pats
poetry clearly shows
Any mans heart would burn
At face IA clare as her'n:
fnii fbo mao anil IN