Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-03-27

s..-.-.- go. row xIe.uauu. L worked nv
passage home When | reached London I
had but few shillings in my poke | had
no articles OF value which | could sell. All
owned, except my clothes and the littls bit
OF money, was pistol which IN N OF
board the ship had given me. 1t was q pistol
of his own invention. He had several with
him. and said he wanted to get the sort
known Why he gave it to me God knows;
but he did, and coupe o. cartridges.
81 spent my money-al but shilling or
two. | tried to get WORK, but nono was to
be had Then l remembered tina | one. had
friend who livei mar Rolling. went
there by train. l hal just enough money
to pay my fare. l found that til, man l
knew had left the place two years ago
walked back to the town penniless and DIES.
perate.
''The first thin, lid was to go to the
pawnbroker's and try and sell the pistol.
The man wouldn't buy it at any price he
said his shop was full OF pistols went away
and walked to the railway station to try ami
earn few pence somehow. l was i'll despair
all but starving.
about seven O'clock the train fl ON Lon
don came in. A tall gentleman came cut of
the door of the station. l asked him if he
had any luggage l could carry for him He
told RE to be off. Then | asked him. for
PHYS sake, to give me shilling to buy some
food He cursed me, and began to hate
him.
'tHe stood under the gas lamp, and drew
out a great gold watch and looked at the
time. Then he ASKED a man near which roat
he must take to get to a village named Cher
we'll. The man told him. l saw him walk
way, and l knew where he vas going.
Il shall be hanged mex week: there is no
hope or me. But l tell the truth wien 1
say that, bad fellow as | am, had Fever
COMMITTED such crime as the one which at
that moment entered my head. That tall
lx1-4
l had nothing. | was starving. So [ ran
on got before him. went miles up the road,
and sat down in the bitter cold on q heap of
stones, waiting for him to come, AMI making
up my mind to kill and rob him. l knew
must kill him, because he was so much
stronger and bigger than l was. My pistol
was loaded.
HE came. I saw him in the moonlight.
l stood up as he came near and, God forgive
me- pulled the trigger, and shot him through
the heart. He fell like a stone, and l knew
/ was murderer
ooh, if / could 1 would have undone the
deed! STOOD for long time before dar-d
to go to the body and steal the things for
which 1 had committed the crime. Then
nerved myself and went to take the price
for which, unless God is mercifu had sold
my soul.
II never took a farthing, Just as ] was
about to begin l heard the sound of feet. ]
looked up, and saw woman or q si,ir4t
felt sure she saw me. | locke at her
under the moon. Her face was white her
lips were moving. her hair was all flying
about. She came straight to where tn.
dead man lay, then stopped AMI Wrung her
hands. l fled away in deadly fear. Iran
across several fields. I dared not stop. I
thought that spirit OF ghost was following me
81 ran on until the snow began. l must
have died in that snow storm il | had not
found a half rooted cowshed. I crept into
this, and lay all the night and part of tie
next day. was the most wretched being in
the world.
Hunger at last drove me out. 1 got
through the snow somehow, and reached
house, where tie people saved me from
starvation. But nothing could make ME go
to the spot where l had done the murder.
My life since then has been one of agony.
Even now that l am going to be hanged ]
am happier than | have felt for months.
May God forgive my crimel
81 pleaded guilty at the trial because |
turned round in the dock and saw the
woman who 1 thought was spirit standing
up and ready to denounce me to the judge.
I knew that she saw me that night and |
was bound to be found guilty.
81 have confessed all. Every word of this
is truth. As hope for mercy, it is all true!
CIVILIAN EVANS
sP 81 took the above confession down
from the prisoners dictation 1t should be
all you want. The man seems thoroughly
penitent, but do not trouble you with his
expressions of remorse and regret.
81 remain, dear sir, yours faithfully,
''STEPHEN Crisp
We read the letter; the paper fiuutered
down from our hands; we turned to each
other. Tears of deep thankfulness were in
my wife's sweet ewes Down to the smallest
detail the wretched mans confession made
every thing clear. Nothing was left unax-
planned excent, perhaps, the motive which
induced Philippe to go that night to
meet her would-be betrayer once
more This We shall never know, but her
temporary madness may amply account for
it. We need seek no further; the faintest
doubt as to her own perfect innocence is re-
moved from my wife's mind. Hand in hand,
heart to heart, lip to lip, we can stand and
feel that our troubles are at last over.
Our troubles over! Shall those words be
the last | write? No, one scene more-the
scene that lies before me even now.
An English home. Outside, green shaver
lawns, trim paths, and fine old trees In
side, the comfort and the peace which mako
an English home the sweetest i'll the world.
For when the need was gone; when sunny
Spain no longer was for us the one safe land,
its charms diminished, and pinned to se5
once more England's fair fields and ruddy
honest faces So back We came, and made
ourselves home, far, far away from every
spot the sight of which might wake sad
thoughts. And here we live, and shall live
till that hour when one of us must kiss the
others clay-cold brow, and know that death
has parted those whom naugh5 but death
could part.
Look out; look throughthis shaded Win
dow There she sits, my wife; a tall son at
her side, fair daughter near her. Years,
many years have passed, but let no lines
upon her brow; brought no white threads to
streak that raven hair The rich, bright
beauty of the girl is still her own. To me,
now as of yore, the sweetest, tairest woman
in the world!
The children see me asI gaze with thought
full, happy eyes upon that group beneath
the trees. They call and beckcn me. My
wife looks up; her eyes meet mine, just
raised from those sad pages. All! love,
sweet love, in those dear eyes what was it
once my fate to read? Shame, sorrow, dread,
despair and love. All these, save love, hare
vanished long ago: and as I turn to zen
these lines-the last-that look of calm. as
surei, unclouded Joy keeps with me- telling
me that from her life has passed even thu
very memory of those dark, darE daysl '-
THE END