The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1877-09-13
A Backwoods Story ].

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Il tell you it's an awful thing to go
through said Tom Mopson-'a mans
last night on earth when he knows
he's got to be hung in the mornin,.'
why, were you ever in that fx?'
inquired one of the listeners.
.It you'd like to hear it, answered
Tom, I'll tell you the story.
BY general invitation he proceeded,
first replacing his quid with a fresh
one.
It's now more'n thirty years. said
Tom, since l took notion to go and
settle in the backwoOds.'
There wasn't another cabin within
five miles o. mine, which made it q lit
tie lone whiles; but it's good thing
to be out O reach O. bad company. and
l alw ays liked n independent life-so.
on the whole, got along quite COM
Portable.
'One night as was putin out the
light after sayin' my prayers afore GO
in to bed, there came quick knock
at the door.
Il hurried to open it. when man
staggered in. His looks was wild and
his face pale.
'llelp! helpv he gasped; I'm afraid
Eve got my death wound!
Il caught him in my arms, and half
ca rried him TO bed,
sIt's here,' he said, when l laid him
down, placin' his hand on his breast.
Quick as could, tore open his
clothes and close by the spot where !
could see his heart beatin' was a round
red mark, with slow stream of blood
tricklin' from 1t. I'd seen bullet
wounds afore, and know'd at once
" hat was the matter.
81 feel I'm dyin',' said the stranger,
after layin' awhile with his eyes shut.
81 hope not says I'D go for a
doctor, but there's none nigher'n ten
mile.'
''T'wouldt be no use,' says he. mo
doctor could get at where the trouble
is. I'm film up with blood inside,
and it'll soon choke me-
Il knowd what he meant. He was
shot in the chest. and was bleedin' in.
''There's one thing L want you TO
do,' says he, ION your word of honor
TO dying man.
what is it p says /.
''Will you give me your word to do
it p says he.
81 will,' says 1, 'if it's any thing an
honest man may do
81 wouldn't ask you 70 do nothing
else,' says he-'not in my last mo.
ments. I'm got my death from one /
always loved dearly. Should he be
discovered and punished for his crime
it would disgrace name prize high
Or than life. No one seen me come
lsre. When I'm dead, bury me in
some secret spot and say nothin', and
hen nobody will ever know my fate.
put you and the man whose conscience
will be his own punishment.
Il looked down in the pale face
urned up to mine. There was some.
him SO besecchin' in it, that l hadn't
he heart to say mo-
.Itook his hand and pressed tit
vas fast CROWN cold.
81 PROMISE said l.
'He lay quite spcll-then took
way his hand, and from an inside
pocket took out thick wallet.
'.Take this-it isyours, he said,p
in it in my hand-there's no one else
low l would wish to have it,
Il pushed it back, but he said.
.'Keep tits my last wish
Then his eyes turned CLASSY.
dropped the pocket book, and catchin
lin in my arms, raised up his head
lie gave one or two long breaths and
sunk back dead.
81 laid him down gently, folded his
.rms across his breast, closed his eyes,
,ud covered his face with the sheet.
'i'd been too long out there ON the
border to fear bein' alone with a dead
map and OF any poseible consequence
TO myself, l was too confused then to
think,
'Afore 1 know'd, daylight was
stresmil.' i'm at the window.
Il must keep my work. said l and
1 got up and went out and got my
spade. Down near by the cabin, was
a shady nook where the wild grape
vines had growed up over the trees.
maxim sort of nat'ral arbOr.
''There's where III lay him. says I
and went TO work and dug a grave
at a spot where the vines hung down
like weepin' willows. Then l went
back to the house, and windin' the
body in my best sheet, carried it in
my arms and laid it in the grave.
s'Earth to earth, and dust to dust !
slys 1, before shovelin' in the clay.
when I'd finished, and had scraped
back the dead leaves over the grave
SOS to hide the spot, and was just