The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1880-02-17

All the old happy days came back, and
the one in particular when we sat IN
Dumberry Wood. It was in the Autumn,
and all the world seemed in blaze of
gold, as the sun elid down, ,and the squil-
rels chartered overhead, dropping ripe
nut now and then, into my lap, as sat
there, with the last rose of Summer in
my hair, knitting purse for Tom.
"Lucy," he had said, as I wove in the
last golden stitches, "you've knit my
love-my very life in that purse. Tell
me now, before you finish it, how is it to
be ? am / TO have you and-oh! l won't
think Of it even. Lucy. 1t would be too
dreadful!'
"No, Tom," I answered, "you are to
have the purse and the hand that knit it,
too."
Poor Tom, he cried then just like =
little child-he, the bravest man 10 the
village. Mh M
mo fault in him, only little too
wild, too fond of gay company; but you
must tame him, Lucy, as your mother
did me-"
That was my fathers advice on our
wedding.day., My heart smote me dread.
fully as l recalled it to mind that morn.
ing. Had done my dutyf Had ! fol
lowed the example OF my neither who
never let fall an unkind word2
But Tom would be home to his dinner
The thought brought me to my feet.
did my work briskly, and went abou
cooking just such dinner as ! knew ht
liked. The plum-pudding was done te
perfection; the baby In 3 clean slir
and myself all smiles ready to receive
him when the clock struck one. But b
didn't come.
/ put by the untasted dinner and pre-
pared supper, and lit bright fire in th,
little parlor. He should have pleasan
welcome. But he did not come. Eight
nine, ten O'Clock, and l pat by the IN
tasted supper, and baby and went uI
to the nursery to wait and watch. How
the little thorn In my heart pierced ant
rankled! Tom had broken his promise
and my uukindness was the cause
Nothing else rang in my ears through
the long hours.
About two O'Clock heard noise be
low aud went to the window. Their
was a man on the porch; conld se
him in the dim light.
"Tom, is that your / asked softly
putting out my head.
Eyes; open the door, Lucy; quick, ,th'
police are after me-"
MY heart sunk. The police after him
What could he have done2 ran dow
swiftly and unlocked the door. But as
did so two men, wearing official badges
stepped upon the pofch, and one Of then
laid bis hand upon Toms shoulder sn'
said: SO 4
81 arrest you, sir"
"For what ?" l cried.
"For murderr'
The floor seemed sliding from beneatl
my feet, but caught at the door I,
steady myself and looked at Tom. A
that instant the official uncovered hi
lantern, and oh, my God! there wa
blood on my husbands hands.
All the rest is a blank. When l cam
to myself again, Twas 10 my own room
and kind, compassionate faces wer
around rae. asked for Tom. He wa
in prison awaiting his trial. There ha'
been q quarrel at the tavern, whittier M
cruel words had driven Tom; and Tor
had struck his antagonist. The ma
wasn't dead, though they thought he wa
| at first-but he was badly hurt about th
head. But IL be recovered-well,
would net go so hard with Tom.
arose and went to the prison, bu
they would not admit me. No one wa
to see my husband until after the tria
Another day crept by; night; an
when the morning came went down I
the door and opened it with vague feel
ing Of expectation which always accom-
panies severe. Affections, and looked out
The sun was rising Gods sun; risin
grandly and brightly over the blac
stone Jail. The frost hung thick an
sparkling over everything, even on th
scrap of folded paper that lay at my fee
/ stopped and picked it up idly AZ "
catch at straw or twig, sometime
without any motive or power of volitiol
The superscrip,ion caught my eye;
was my own, name and my husband
handwriting. tore it open and read :
DEAR Lucy: I have broken out Of ja
and am goipg-well, no matter where.-
didn't strike Hastings with an intentio
to kill him. I was intoxicated, and
was more his fault than mine; but b
may die, and then-at any rate 1t is bel
ter for you, Lucy, for me to go. l neve
was worthy Of your love. Now 20
can 90 back to your father, forget N
and be happy. You will fiud the bond
for what money I have in bank in th
desk; it is enough to make you and Ii
child comfortable. Forgive and forg'
me, Lucy. God bless you-you and II
baby. T0N.
This was the eud! This was the r,
ward that nv cross words had purchase
for me! Truly, truly the wages OF 81
are death. We shall not need one pan
of ccrporeal punishment, one spark I
real fire, to perfect our torment If we al
lost. Conscience is all-suff1cient-r,
morse, that worm that never dies. 1t
not for me to attempt to talk about whit
! suffered in the days that followed th'
morning. Words could not express
save to one that has passed through tt
same furnace of affliction, could begin
understand it. But lived, for sorro
and death rarely walk iu each other
steps, and nursed my babe and did tt
work my hands bad to do. ! did not
back to my father. remained at Tom
home and kept his things about me. eve
his cap hanging on the wall. Forg'
him Does love ever forgets
Hastings did not die. He recovere
and made a public statement. He va
more in fault than Tom was. Then b
put notice in all the papers telling Tol
to come back but he did not come.
| The winter passed away with lonI
llong nights Of bitter remorse and tend'
recollectiops OF the dear husband who's
lstrong arms had once been nay stay an
support. The spring came-the summt
another winter. Three years went /