The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1877-01-18
From Harper's Bazaar
When the Ship Comes Home.
ny WALTER BEsANT AND JAMES
RICE.
AUTHORS OF READY MONEY MoRrrnoY," ''THs
GOLDEN BUrrKRFLY." xrc., ETC.
CHAPTER I.

GOLDEN BUTTERFLY" ere, Krc.
CHAPTER I.
RELEASE.
X CONVICT! That is what l was
"a 1S5l-a convict, with a sentence
on my head of twenty years penal
servitude, fifteen of them still to
elapse, for forgery and embezzlement,
the crime having been committed un-
der circumstances las the judge re-
marked) Of the most revolving and ex-
aggerated ingratitude-a convict in
New South Wales.
1t seemed to me at the time, and 1t
seems to me still, but small thing
for which l received = remission OF
the unfinished term of years, compar-
ed with the thing for which l was
found guilty and received my SEN
tence. There was rising, sud-
den and purposeless rising, among
the convicts, and at critical moment
Heaven in its mercy put into my
head to do what they called . heroic
deed. 1t saved the lives, they said, of
the governor and one or two prison
warders, and it gave me my freedom.
Let US say no more about it.
My freedom! What did that mean
to me? Let me try, bitter as is the
recollection of that time, to recall
something of what it meant, some
thing of my prison life.
was in prison for five years and
three months. When my servitude
began, used to lie sleepless at night;
sometimes stupidity wondering; some
times moaning in agony of misery;
sometimes praying for swift and speedy
death; sometimes asking bitterly II
prayer were any use, If there were
any one at all to hear and pity out
side the white stone wall; sometimes
meditatiRg on some possible mode of
suicide to end it all-because, you see,
was innocent.
At the beginning of my imprison-
ment, when l slept, my though IS
would fly back to the happy days of
liberty. I saw myself at school;
was visiting my patron, master and
benefactor, Mr.. Baldwin, to whom my
dead father had been faithful and
trusted servant. He questioned me,
according to his wont, on my progress
in the classes; he patted me on the
head when / showed him my prizes;
and when, at sixteen, he took me
away from the school, where he had
paid for my education. it was to give
me desk In his counting-house, with
the promise of advancement should
deserve it. As the years went on,
saw myself pushed up with as much
rapidity as was fair to Others. Re
sponsible work was put into my hands
At twenty enjoyed such confidence
as the head of great City house could
bcstowa young clerk, and was al
lowed such salary that l could live
comfortably, and have my little sis.
ter Ruth-my only sister-to live with
me. When my dreams reached this
point generally awoke with a start
and rush of thoughts, confused at
6rst, but swiftly resolving themselves
into a ghastly truth. For then fol-
lowed the dreadful end-my good old
master in the witness-box telling,
with sobs ofa broken voice, how he
had loved and trusted me; the i'm.
mediate and unanimous finding of the
verdict; the voice Of the judge-cold,
stern, never to be forgotten-stating
that. in the face of the facts before
him, he must make q signal example
Of as black case as had ever been re.
vealcd in a court of justice. The sen.
tence of the court would be twenty
years of penal servitude. And after
that my little Ruth-oh. my pretty,
innocent, helpless little sister Of ten
weeping before me, when she came to
take her leave of me, and not able tc
do anything-not the least single
thing-not able to say any word, not
the least single word of comfort-too
miserable even to assert my limo
cence! l cannot bear even now to
think about it. For was innocent
After few months of prison life
left off dreaming of the past. Then
the present was with me night and
day-a present without joy, hope OF
uncertainty; a present without pain
shame or suffering, save for the lead
en- weight Of degradation which never
leaves prisoner. Yet no open sense
of disgrace, because there were none
to look in my face and shame me with
. glance. You do not feel disgrace
before a warder or an official, and YET
the shame is that part of the punish
ment which the Judge always forgets
it comes after the sentence is worked
out. There was no suffering, because
the days work brought the nights ia
tigue, and there was no one at fall o
evening in my solitary cell to keel
me awake with reproaches; but al
ways that heavy load upon the brain
and the present monotonous anc
dreadful as 1t was with me night anG
day. l ceased in very few month,
to think, to feel, to look forward.
became machine; even the thought
of my innocence died out of me by de-
grees. I supposed that, somehow,
must have done it-perhaps in
madness, perhaps in dream; or rath
er accepted the present, and forgot
the past. l even forgot poor littl'
Ruth, and ceased to wonder what hac
become of her; forgot what | had
been. l was convict; there was
nothing before me but prison all m.
life.
The seasons rolled on; the brigh
sun overhead beat down upon th'
bare prison yards; the moonligh
streamed through the bars of my win
dow. Summer followed winter again
Outside the prison the world went OF
its quiet colonial way. No doub
within stone's-throw of my cell wo
men were wooed, children were born
there were rejoicings and thanksgiv