The Grange advance. [volume] (Red Wing, Minn.) 1873-1877, 1877-02-21
speak, with extra weight for the race


he seemed ready to run.
These chains, how irksome they
were! Basils were riveted on to his
ankles; and between them hung. a cum
brous load of rattling links, from which
night or day, sleeping or waking, it
was doomed that he should never b.
free. a
He was cunning old convict was
Mr.. Thomas Twoshoes, having had
much experience in many prisons and
in many lands. This present punish
ment was not to be endured for long,
not if he could possibly helpit. But
how to rid himself Of this intolerable
incubus of iron? Escape by actual flight
was now out of the question; they
would not give him another chaace:
But could he not compass his release
from letters. if not from the prison!
He was up to every move; one or an
other might benefit him.
Why not ''try it on!''
Next morning, when standing on
parade preparatory to marching out to
work, Twoshoes dropped suddenly as
if he had been shot. A few. short.
convulsive kicks, and then he lay, to
all appearance, lifeless and stone cold.
They lifted him up carefully. and car
ried him to the hospital. The ''youpg"
doctor, the assistant, came post-haste.
TwOshOes was stripped, his irons re-
moved; he was laid in a warm bed, re-
storatives were applied, hut all to no
purpose. Rigid in every limb, CHASTITY
white, it seemed as if life was indeed
extinct. And yet his heart beat, the
temperature OF his body was normal,
his tongue was clean.
The ''young doctor was fairly puz-
zled. Next appeared the senior sur
geon, hard-hearted old gentleman,
not easily imposed upon.
"a fit, Ell! Bring some hot water
-scalding hot-from the boiler sharp's
the word it's the only chance. He
spoke in loud, peremptory tones.
Stay I'll go with you - and present.
ly he returned, followed by nurse
carrying huge can and a sponge.
''Try it with the thermometer; what
does it register-on hundred and nine
ty-twO degrees That will do. Now
Hoskins, mind your fingers throw it
over him. There -
Splash went the contents of the can
ovel the prost14t Twoshoes. The IT.
feet was instantaneous.
He jumped from the bed, yelling,
screaming, swearing, threatening, all
in breath. He was burnt, scalded to
death, the skin was peeling from his
body he could not live IN such tor
ments.
"Cold water Ice - he cried with
stentorian voice.
"You've had it, said the doctor,
coolly. ''That water wasn't hot. It
came straight from the pump and
you're a humbug, Twoshoes; you're
| only strying it on.
He had been trying to sbest the
croaker,' but the ''croaker,'' as the
doctor is styled, had got the chest so
far. Twoshoes suffered long deten-
ton on short allowance for this unsuc.
cessful trick, and then they put him
on his chains again and sent him back
to his work.
Two days later they found him hang
ing by the neck in his cell. He was
cut down promptly. Life was not yet
extinct. A few simple remedies re-
stored consciousness, and, after he
had been left for an hour to reflect
calmly upon the crime he had nearly
committed, the Chaplain came to COM
fort him.
Twoshoes was penitent. He saw
his error, he said. 1t was remorse,
bitter remorse, for a past sin. The
memory of great crime-an undis-
covered crime, which he had com.
mitted a few years before-pressed
down on him, with weight so awful
that he could no longer endure to live
His life was burden to him, so soreiy
did his conscience smite him. When
he lay alone in his narrow cell in the
silent night watches, the terrible rec
objection of the deed he had done
goaded him nearly to madness. -,-.
''Last nights torture was the keen
est, sir, of all ever endured. MY de-
spondency and self-reproach rose to
such an agonizing height that de-.
termined to make away with myself.
You know the rest. But it is better
so it is better that I should live till
meet the extreme penalty of the law,
which is no more than [ deserve for
my crime,''
Then he proceeded with tears of
contrition, to confess it all.
That TOoley-street murder-did his
reverence remember it? The hideous
details, the mutilation, the absence of
motive, and the terrible mystery
which hangs over it, battling every ef-
fort of the police even to this very
day?
''It was my act sir,'' went on Two
shoes, burying his face in his hands.
II murdered her in cold blood; the
brand of Cain is upon me- can never