The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1875-01-28

On re-enterlng the house, L found the
stranger was not there. His absence ex-
cited no surprise; hewould doubtless soon
return. 1t was a little singular, however,
that he should have left his watch lying
ON the table.
cat the end of half an hour, my guest
not returning, went again to the stable,
thinking he might have found his way
thither to give personal attention to the
wants of his horse. Before going out,
from mere force of habit-for we were as
yet uninfested by either thieves or
policemen-I took the precaution of put
ting the strangers watch in drawer in
which [ kept my own valuables. L found
the horse as L had left him, and gave
him the food which he was now srif-
ticiently cooled to be allowed to eat; but
his master was nowhere to be seen.
AS I approached the house, crowd of
men on horseback dashed up, and / was
commanded, in no gentle tones, to
stand = In another moment L was in
the clutches of those who claimed me as
their prisoner
"I was too much stupefed at first to
ask what it all meant. 1 did SO at last,
and the explanation came-it was terri
BILE ! My friend, with whom L had SO
lately set out in company, had been
found murdered and robbed near the
spot at which l, but L alone, knew we
had separated. L was the last person
known to be with him, and L was now
arrested on suspicion of his murder. A
search of the premises was Immediately
instituted. The watch was found in the
! drawer in which I had placed it, and was
identified as the property of the muir
dered man. His horse, too, was found
in my stable, for the animal L had just
put there was none other, 1 recognized
him myself when / saw him i'll the light.
What [ said, L know not. My confusion
was taken as additional evidence. And
when, at length, L did command Ian
guage to give an intelligent statement,
it was received with sneers of in
credulity.
"The mob spirit is inherent in man
at least, in crowds of men. 1t may not
always manifest itself in physical vio-
! lence. It sometimes contents itself
with lynching Il character. But what
ever its form, it is always relentless, pitt
less, cruel.
As the proofs of my guilt, one after
another, came to light, low mutterings
gradually grew into a clamor for ven
| geance; and but for the firmness of one
man-the officer who had me III charge
I would doubtless have paid the pen
atty of my supposed offense on the spot.
1t was not sympathy for me that ac-
tuated my protector. His heart was as
hard as his Office; but he represented the
! majesty of the law and took a sort Of
pride i'll the position. AS much under
| the glance of his eye as before the muz-
zle of his pistol, the cowardly clamorers
drew back. Perhaps they were not
sufficiently numerous to feel the full
effect of that mysterious reflex influence
which makes crowd of men so much
worse, and at times so much better, th.n
any one of them singly.
sat the end of some months my trial
came. 1t could have but one result.
Circumstances too plainly declared my
guilt. L alone knew they lied. The
absence of the jury was very brief. To
their verdict l paid but little heed. 1t
long anticipated it, and it made no i'm
! by the words of the Judge which follow
ed it; and his solemn invocation that
God might have that mercy upon me
WHICH, HILL WIS lOO JtlSI W NOuCllSttle,
! sounded like the hollowest of hollow
mockeries. 1t may be hard for the con-
demned criminal to meet death it is
still harder for him who is innocent.
| The one, when the first shock is over,
acquiesces in his doom, and gives him
self to repentance the heart of the
other, filled with rebellion against man S
injustice, can scarce bring itself to ask
pardon of God. I had gradually over
come this feeling, in spite of the good
clergyman irritating efforts, which were
mainly directed towards extracting q
confession, without which, he assured
me, he had no hope to offer.
son the morning of the day fixed for
my execution, 1 felt measuably resigned.
L had SO long stood face to face with
death, had so accustomed myself to look
upon it as merely momentary pang,
that 1 no longer felt solicitous save that
my memory should one day be vindi-
Gated. She for whom had gone to
prepare home, had already found one
in heaven. The tidings of my calamity
had broken her heart, She alone, of all
the world, believed me innocent and
she had died with a prayer upon her
lips, that the truth might yet be brought
to light. All this l had heard, and it
had soothed rs with sweet incense my
troubled spirit Death, however un-
welcome the shape, was now a portal,
beyond which L could see one angel
waiting to receive me. L heard the
sound of approaching footsteps, and
nerved myself to meet the expected
summons. The door of my cell opened,
and the sheriff and his attendants
entered. He held in his hand paper.
1t was doubtless my death-warrant. He
began to read it. My thought were
busted elsewhere. The words 6 full and
free pardon were the first to strike my
preoccupied senses. They affected the
bystanders more than myself. Yet SO it
was: L was pardoned for an offense L
had never committed
"The real culprit, none other, it is
needless to say, than he who had sought
and abused my hospitality, had been
mortally wounded in recent affray in a
distant city, but had lived long enough
to make disclosure, which had been
laid before the governor barely in time
to save me from shameful death, and
condemn me to a cheerless and burden
some life. This is my experience. My
| Judgment, as yours, in the case before
us, leads to but one conclusion, that of
the prisoners guilt; but not less conf
dent and apparently unerring was the
judgment that falsely pronounced my
own"
We no longer importuned our fellow
juror, but patiently awaited our dis
- l.