The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1885-09-25

shall not easily forget that journey;
it soon grew quite dark, as l toiled on
over the lonely road, with frequent
halts to rest, while poor No
492 grew weaker and weaker, and
his terrible cough more and more fire.
quent. We had gone, Isuppose, about
three miles, when began to feel that
it was quite impossible for me to ac-
complish the remaining distance, as it
was so dark that / stumbled painfully
over the rough path, and at each
stumble my burden groaned with pain,
and coughed so dismally, that [ felt
my well-meant endeavors were only
putting him to complete torture; so |
stopped, laid him on the grass, and
told him that we would not try to go
on till the moon rose. "All right,
guv'nor," said he, feebly, and fell back
fainting; so I administered thelast few
drops of brandy / had left, covered
him up as well as Icould with my coat,
propped his head upon my sketching
case, sat down by his side, and won
dered what would be the end ofmy ad-
venture.
| Hooked at my watch and saw that
it was nine o'clock. The moon, I knew
would not rise till nearly midnight, SO
wehad three hours to wait. I think
those three hours were the elongest ever
passed in my life. The silence and the
loneliness of the moor were terrible,
and No. 492 lay with his eyes closed,
and, save for an occasional groan,
might have been dead. Once or twice
he tried to speak, but apparently it
was beyond his powers, and he fell
back again exhausted. Once he put
out his hand, caught mine, and to my
great surprise, carried it to his lips and
kissed it. I am not much used to hav-
ing my hand kissed at any time, and
should probably under any circumstan-
ces, feel the situation embarrassing;
but to have it kissed by a dying con-
vict out on Dartmoor, in the middle
of the night, was novel experience.
did not mean to hurt the feelings
of No. 492, but I drew it away some
what hastily; and then, seeing his
lips move, as if he was trying to say
something, bent over him to listen,
and in a voice little more than whis-
per, he said: beg your parden, sir;
but you have been precious kind to
me, and feels weak and silly; didn't
mean no offense."
hastened with some compunction
to reassure him that I WAS not offend
ed; and again he closed his eyes; and
around us once more was silence.
At last, to my great Joy, the sky
frightened up a bit; the outlines ofthe
trees became more distinct, and the
moon appeared over the hills, and
shot a flood of silver light all over
themoor. My spirits, which had fallen
below zero, revived considerably; dark
ness has at all times depressing in
fuence, and under my peculiar circum-
stances, had reduced meto most pro-
found melancholy. I felt quite glad to
see the moon rise, though, beyond the
fact of being able to see where we were,
it did not materially assist me out OF
the fix | was in.
I looked at No. 492 and he seemed
to be asleep 1 did not like to wake
him, so got up quietly, intending to
walk to the top of a hill close by,
and see if I could discover the lights OF
Princess Town, or any house nearer,
to which / might direct my steps. I
was not gone long perhaps half an
hour; and when I came back, found
No. 492 with his eyes wide open, and
to my great surprise though l don't
know why I should have been so sur
prised-tears running down his cheeks.
Really, my ideas about convicts were
becomming quite upset; one who fur
lively kissed my hand, and who wept
was, thought, indeed an anomaly.
bent over him and asked him if he
was in worse pain, or what was the
matter. Poor fellow! he lifted his
+aI hand Irayr, ~ hIS
and said: 'No; 1 amt in no pain now,
sir; but I woke from bit of doze and
saw that you was gone; and thought
as how you had left me; and somehow
felt lonesome and afeared" and then
great sob shook him.
assured him that was not going
to leave him, and he appeared COM
forted. Then, after pause, said: 81
amt one as has been much afeared In
my time, sir; but, somehow now Ican't
'elp it; it seems all of tremble; and it
looks awful dark ahead of me, and 1
be so weak don't seem able to faceit
no-how.
1 longed truly to be able to help
him, and wished it with all my heart
that I could do it better; but feeling
rather ashamed, Itried to tell No. 492
SOmeGnlnS aDOuC d SUfOng hanO WHICH
will help in the dark valley, and One
who will be near us when of ourselves,
as he said, 1--WE don't seem to be able
to face it nohow." He listened atten-
lively and then closed his eyes, muir
muring something Icould not catch.
''It amt no use my trying to get
away, guv'nor," said he, sadly; "I'm
that weak I can't walk a step. /
couldn't escape now, not if a carriage
and-four was waiting forme. Pdwan't
nuss to lift me up into it. Guess I'll
die in quod after all"
After a. pause, asked him if he
would try to go on again. "All right,
guv'nor; you knows BEST" was his an
swer, but very faint and feeble.
Well, I picked him up again, and off
I started. By this time the moon was
high up, so we progressed a good deal
faster than before, and had traversed
a considerable distance before l had to
stop and put my burden down. Even
then, could have gone bit further,
but No. 492 whispered: "Stop, sir, now;