The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1878-09-19
For the Citizen.I
For the Citizen.I
THE TWO CAPS:
The White and Black Cap.
BY EsTELLE vEHsE.
(Continued.)

Now the storm breaks upon me, sink"
There are no words at the com
maud of the writer, if so inclined
to unveil to the callous world this
scene! Let US pass to a week later
when the shock with it's first over
powering tumult has partially sub
sided, and at the earnest pleading
of the mother the son is taken to
see her, PROSTATE uSon her death
bed as she hopes and all believe.
Taken under guard but released
from his manacles to stand in heT
presence. Though censured for her
leniency in her course towards her
son, she had always the respect OF
the community, as this was her
greatest error, and now held fast
the deep sympathy of the town in
this, her greatest al:-her retribu-
tive rorture-her sons condemna-
tion to death by the rope!
Unmoved the wretch looks upon
her sufferihgs as she lies gasping
for breath upon her pillow; un-
moved as the ematiated, feeble hand
stretches out to clasp his neck,
which he in his hard hearted, stub
born callousness refuses to yield O
her embrace. Her boy, so idolized,
so pampered by indulgence to ruin
Her son that she would, as she cried
ont in her sore agony,
Wiring her life dry for his lips to drink,
Break itup for his daily bread"
when his little feeble body lay prone
upon his dying bed as she believed,
and in her arrogant sinfulness de-
nldnded his life of our Father!
Clay in the hands of the potter is
not more plastic than is the child's
soul in the hands Of those who tend
it. How many deformed and broken
ones do we see! Alas alas! to be
traced back to criminal neglect of
duty-to an over indulgence that
brings with it despair and ruin!
Had the clay been kept soft and
moist, how easy the moulding! and
shall we not believe that the image
of God could have been beautiful
on all, even him2
He bid his mother farewell, and
not a tear dimmed his eyes, not a
moan escaped mis- lips, not a mus
Gle twitched, and with a firm step
and erect carriage left the room,
closing the door after him. Never
again to cross the threshold of his
childhood's home and the home
of his manhood and his early
love; leaving his mother crushed,
overwhelmed, suffocated with grief
and not one tender word for memo
ry to dwell upon, and without hope
in blessed future to sustain her
and illumine the midnight gloom
that envelopes her within its hidden
folds.
"There are swift hours in hfe-strong, rush
ing hours,
That do the work of teuPests in their might
They touch with fire thoughts craven page
the roll
Stamped with past years and lol it shrivels
as a scrollt'
The next morning at 10 o'clock
the criminals were to die upon the
gallows. The clouds were dark and
heavy and cold wind blowing from
the north. Hundreds of eager peo-
pie were pouring into the city. The
multitude had gathered at the place
of execution, and the hour was near
at band. The roll of wheels were
heard, the crowd swayed; and the
three men were escorted upon the
platform: turn acd face the crowd
The ropes are adjusted, their arms
pinioned, and he who figures in
these pages turned with brazen af-
frontery to the priest and ordered
him not tc waste his breath for him,
but to save It for those who believed
in such twaidle.
Permission being granted him To
speak, he looks down into the up
turned faces of the multitude and
tells them with emphasis and a curl
upon his lips that he owes his posi-
tion to a weak, indolent and wicked
mother-a woman unworthy to bear
the sacred appellation of mother,
and whose shame and suffering
come from the worlds opinion, and
not for the loss of his soul! ITO
day l might stand an honored man
instead of a manacled murderer and
thief with hands gored in crimes
that would freeze the blood TO hear
"Tis well TO die and not complain
But II speak for future genera
tions! My mother who gave me
birth, the mother of my body also
the mother of my soul, for good or
i'll. she could have made me good
and happy; as am now miserable
and accursed. My destiny was in
her hands, and she has made me
what / am, a misery to myself and a
dire calamity to others; and the
sooner l launch out into another
world the better for those ] leave
behind"
Holding out his hand, with a
ghastly smile, Comrades, it Is too